


Everything Rekindled

by auntiesuze, stellahibernis



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist Steve Rogers, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang, Complicated Relationships, Digital Art, Embedded Images, Explicit Sexual Content, Illustrated, M/M, Pining, Road Trips, Winter Soldier as a benevolent mob boss, fear of commitment, getting to know each other again, grand canyon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-04 11:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntiesuze/pseuds/auntiesuze, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: The Winter Soldier escaped from Hydra in the early eighties, and since then he's helped SHIELD to get rid of their parasite, taken over the Russian and Irish mobs in Brooklyn, used his influence to make the borough safer, and reclaimed the name James (albeit not Barnes, and definitely not Bucky). By 2012 he was leading a very comfortable and content life, if not exactly happy one.Everything changed when Captain America was found in ice, and suddenly there was a possibility for James to find happiness again. For once, the biggest obstacle on his path was himself.For Captain America Big Bang 2019, fic by stellahibernis and art by auntiesuze.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **stellahibernis:** I'd had the idea for this story bouncing around in my head for over a couple of years, and it was great to finally put it in words. Even better to get such wonderful art for it! My biggest thanks to auntiesuze for great collaboration during this bang, to El for beta, and to the organizers for putting the event together. I've had a great time, and I hope you'll enjoy the results of our work!
> 
> **auntiesuze:** This is actually my first big bang (only having done an RBB once before) so I wasn't entirely sure how it would go. But I got SO lucky to work with stellahibernis - the story was so compelling, I immediately had a half-dozen ideas for art pieces (sadly, not enough time to get them all done, but I managed a few!). Thanks, stella, for trusting me with your baby and being such an open collaborator and thanks to all of the organizers for doing the yeoman's work of putting this whole thing together.

The Winter Soldier had been trained to be invisible. It had been much easier in the days gone by when there hadn’t been cameras attached to every corner, but then again these days he was breaking the law in less obvious ways. Or at least, only in ways that the members of variably covert agencies who knew of him didn’t care about. After nearly four decades spent in the mental haze resulting from the Hydra conditioning, the last thirty years had been a time of gradual change for him, of him choosing what he wanted to do as well as what and who he wanted to be. It had taken a few turns and false starts, but he’d ended up running both the Russian and Irish mobs in Brooklyn, going mostly against the general mob brand in that their activity lessened the total amount of crime in the neighborhoods they worked in, which was why they’d been left mostly alone. Along the way he’d built a very comfortable life for himself.

A name had been one of the more difficult things to recover. He’d discovered his birth identity soon after escaping from Hydra, but even three decades later, he still didn’t feel confident to reclaim it fully even in his mind, and even less so actually using his whole name. He had gradually moved from thinking of himself as the Soldier to James, his former first name was common enough that owning it came easily enough. His crew sometimes called him by his name, but more often just boss. Sometimes they also called him the Soldier, usually when they needed to intimidate people. Being a decades old ghost story did have its perks.

It had been sixty-seven years since anyone had called him Bucky, and as far as he was concerned, no one ever would again.

James blinked, tried to banish the memories, and to distract himself stepped into a coffee shop that was conveniently right in front of him. It was not one of those he frequented, but he was sure they could provide him with a concoction of caffeine and calories. As he stood in the queue, he mused that he really didn’t know what was worse, to not remember something or to remember so clearly the memories were almost indistinguishable from reality. Both regularly happened to him, and each could make living hard.

He ordered a mocha with whipped cream to go. He was often glad he didn’t need to worry about the amount of special drinks he consumed, he needed the calories to keep his Hydra-spec body going. It also didn’t hurt that one of the first things he’d remembered after escaping had been his sweet-tooth, and so nowadays every coffee drink with syrup and whipped cream felt like giving the finger to everyone who’d tried to control him. 

Back on the street he fell into step with the crowd again, once more invisible in every way that mattered in his daily life. People sometimes turned their heads when he passed, but it was just the regular interest of passers-by. He knew he was generally considered attractive, much as he’d been during his early adulthood, which meant getting some attention from his neighbors in the city, and while he didn’t exactly cherish it, he didn’t really mind it either. To them he was just another man walking down the street, his dark jeans, boots, and black leather jacket nothing that stood out. He had kept his hair long, although it was usually tied at the back of his head rather than flowing free, and his stubble was carefully cultivated to look fashionable but casual. Because of how naturally taking care of his appearance came, he suspected he’d used to be a bit vain about his looks before the war. It was not a memory exactly, but the careful grooming routines felt familiar. Difference was, he had more capability of self-reflection these days, which meant he recognized the tendency even though he probably hadn’t done so back in the day.

He turned to a residential street, sauntering down among the much sparser crowd. He’d never lost the instinct to keep an eye on his surroundings, and so he immediately spotted the car that was clearly parked there for surveillance, as well as the two plain-clothed agents loitering nearby. He slowed his walking speed a bit, not so much it was noticeable, but enough to give himself more time to observe them, and sipped his mocha again for a good measure. The agents were looking all around but their attention was focused on one of the brownstones in particular. They were not interested in him, and as long as he kept looking like he was minding his own business, and definitely didn’t appear interested in the house, he’d keep on being invisible.

He  _ was _ curious, though, starting with the fact that the borough was part of his territory, and he liked to know what the law enforcement got up to around there. Looking at the setup, he deduced it was protection that aimed to be somewhat discreet rather than surveillance of a criminal, although he believed there was a whole lot of surveillance going on as well.

He was still some fifty yards away when things got more interesting; the door to the brownstone in question opened, and a man came out, lightly skipping down the steps and briskly walking in the direction away from James. He idly thought it was a shame, he would have liked to see the person more closely, but as it was, he at first focused on the behavior of the agents. It was definitely a protective detail, and most likely not something the man in question either knew of or agreed with, since he made no concession to wait for them to get their ducks in a row. James continued at his steady walking pace, because hurrying up or hanging back near the house would now have been especially suspicious, but his gaze discreetly turned toward the man walking down the street as if drawn by some force, something already niggling at his brain, a memory ready to surface.

It was only his training that allowed him to keep the steady walking pace, because what he saw was impossible. He knew that shape of body, that particular shade of golden blond hair, that hunch in the shoulders and hands in the pockets, that gait. He knew all of those details and mannerisms, and he also knew the person they belonged to was gone forever.

The man turned at the corner, his entourage following him, and James walked at a steady pace until he was at the corner and turned toward the other direction. He threw the remains of his mocha into the first garbage can he saw, and finally allowed himself to walk faster. He automatically still surveyed the surroundings, but otherwise he had locked his thoughts tight, he couldn’t deal with what he’d seen out in the open.

When he arrived at the office, he told his people he was not to be disturbed unless it was something critically important, and closed and locked his door. He sat in his large comfortable leather chair, leaned back, and allowed himself to think back to what his eyes had told him.

It must have been a hallucination. There was no other explanation that made sense to him. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d seen dead people superimposed over those still alive; Becca’s granddaughter, who he sometimes saw around the city even though he’d never introduced himself, didn’t really look like her grandmother, and yet there was something so similar that James often saw Becca in her. It wouldn’t even have been the first time he’d imagined seeing Steve. He just couldn’t think of a reason for the hallucination getting triggered right then, he’d been having a good day as it was, but nothing else made sense.

A few hours later he got a message about unusual activity, and since his people seemed confused about what had happened, he summoned them to explain. Ever since he’d taken over first the Russian mob and later the Irish, he’d trained his crew into something more than an unruly group of small time criminals wanting to pretend they were hardasses. These days they were professional and, most importantly, able to make accurate judgment calls, so when one of them said something weird was going on, James believed it.

“There is a newbie in town who doesn’t know how things work, and he tried to mug someone,” said Kiril, one of the younger, very promising people in James’ crew.

“And did you explain to him how things actually do work here?” James asked.

“Someone got there first. This man was passing nearby, and he just grabbed the gun from the guy like it was nothing, then held on to him until the cops came. Not that he needed to wait for long, the place was swarming with alphabet agents almost immediately, so he handed over the mugger and made sure the vic was okay. It looked like the agents were there because of him, and they probably weren’t expecting having to deal with an attempted mugging, because they didn’t bother getting the gun from where the guy had tossed it. I found it.”

Kiril pulled out the gun, and laid it on James’ table. The metal was mangled, and James could fit his fingers over the deformations where it had been crushed by hand, with much more strength than a human should possess.

“What the hell is happening here, boss?” Alina, Kiril’s partner, asked.

“I’ll look into it,” James said. “In the meantime, if anyone sees this man, steer clear. If he causes problems, contact me immediately, and don’t engage while we don’t know what’s going on. What did he look like?”

“Couldn’t see much, but tall, blond, built as hell but like a gymnast rather than a weightlifter. Brown leather jacket and khakis,” Kiril said.

“Boring haircut, like older people have,” Alina added. “Clean-shaven. Somehow familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

“Right, okay,” James said, hiding his bewilderment, because everything they’d told him was just feeding his previous hallucination. “And if you had to guess the alphabet agency connected to him?”

Kiril and Alina looked at each other and nodded. “SHIELD,” they both said at the same time.

“Let the others know that they shouldn’t try to dig for more details,” James said as a final reminder.

He was left alone, and the first thing to do was to consider how to move forward with this, because all the facts pointed toward impossibility. He picked the gun up again, and fit his hand over the indentations. He didn’t want to, but couldn’t help but consider the question,  _ What if? _

* * *

James put a word out with his crew to let him know when the man was spotted somewhere he could be approached without it being immediately obvious to his minders, and already the next day he got word that the man was at one of the old-fashioned gyms, one that James had occasionally visited as well. It was very convenient, since he knew the place like the back of his hand, and so he set off, melting into the darkness as he best could.

He never saw the man, because when he arrived within a view of the gym, a black SUV pulled up, and out of it stepped none other than Nick Fury, who swept into the building. James decided to take a raincheck on scouting, no matter how curious he was, because even though he had met Fury, and they had an understanding, James didn’t want to talk to him. It would only lead to having to listen to the old recruitment talk once more, and the current situation was confusing enough without having to deal with Fury on top of it.

It brought him to the question; if, somehow, as bonkers and unlikely as it was, if it indeed was Steve in that building, then what had the people of SHIELD told him? Not many of them knew who James was beyond the Winter Soldier on a new career path. In fact probably just two of them did know, and one of those was retired, although very likely to come into contact with Steve at some point soon, if it hadn’t happened already. Yet, two people knew, perhaps a third soon if she ended up meeting Steve, and that meant a fairly big likelihood that Steve would find out about James sooner rather than later.

In all honesty, James didn’t know what he wanted them to have told Steve, if it indeed was him and he hadn’t just finally started falling apart, the paranoia providing him something that he both wanted and didn’t know how to handle.

* * *

Considering how his last few days had turned out, an alien attack in New York felt just about par for course to James. In fact, his whole life right now felt like he’d been dumped into a parallel world where everything impossible was suddenly possible, and he just wanted to put up his hands and say whatever to it. Of course, his life had been strange and abnormal ever since that day in Azzano when he’d looked up and seen his fellow soldiers disappear in blue flashes. He hadn’t expected all of this to lead to aliens, although for him they still felt more likely than Steve being alive. Luckily for everyone in Brooklyn, the attack was centered at the Manhattan, and even though the aliens were clearly flying, they didn’t stray outward. It was as if something was keeping them there.

The media coverage during the attack was almost nonexistent, but from the roof James could see with his binoculars the flying patterns of Iron-Man, and for a moment he thought there was someone hanging from the Chrysler Building, calling down the lightning and directing it. Yet another impossibility that still paled next to the question that was plaguing his mind.

He knew also that if, somehow, miraculously, Steve really was out and about, alive and whole rather than lying dead in an icy grave no one had found, then he probably was in the middle of the chaos that Manhattan had become. James almost wanted to go there, both to see if his hallucinations were reality after all, and to take out some aliens himself. His rooftop was so far away that even with his very nice rifle it would have been impossible to hit the flying aliens. When it appeared the aliens were swarming more intensely, he started to really consider moving closer, but the portal suddenly closed and the aliens dropped like flies. It was over, and yet everything had changed.

Once everything had marginally calmed down, James and his crew moved toward the river, because there was bound to be a flood of people coming from Manhattan, and he didn’t want chaos to break out in the neighborhood. It still amused him, the idea that a mob was acting as part of the public service, and he certainly did sometimes get asked questions about it. His standard reply was that they actually made a better profit than any other crime organization, his crew was paid better, not to mention by this point almost legally, and because he made the borough safer, the cops just tended to close their eyes when they took out those trying to claim their territory or bring in drugs. Honestly, everyone should have done it like them, but the catch was, the early years hadn’t been that profitable for him personally, and no one seemed to have the patience for that. It also probably helped when making changes to have a reputation like he did.

The reputation was what he thought about later, back in his office while he was looking at the video clips from what the media had dubbed the Battle of New York and the official sources called the Incident, which felt to James they were desperately trying to force what had happened into something that made sense, even when it went completely beyond any scale they had. It turned out it really had been just a handful of people who had taken the aliens head on, the cops and firefighters had mostly taken care of the perimeter and helped the civilians away from the danger. The media was of course speculating on the identities of these so called Avengers, and while some official statements had been given, there were still a lot of questions unanswered. There was Stark to start with, of course. Beyond him, James recalled the green rage monster had been part of the Harlem incident a few years before, and he also had heard rumors of the man who by all appearances was the Norse god Thor.

Funnily enough, James did know the two people the media speculated about the least, because they’d been in SHIELD uniform and hence easier to classify as agents. He honestly had been surprised to see Natalia there, whole mayhem like this really wasn’t something she specialized in, but then again she was extremely versatile. James himself had had a hand in her training, a lot longer ago than either of their apparent ages suggested. They still sparred with each other every once in a while, and they both pretended he didn’t know the meetings were partly her keeping an eye on his stability for the peace of Nick Fury’s mind. James was relatively sure that while she was very loyal to Fury, she also knew which of his secrets to protect, and he wasn’t quite as secretive with her as might have been prudent. Through her James also had been introduced to Barton, and he had enough respect for the man to trust him to have Natalia’s back in tight spots.

The two of them were also people he would trust to have Steve’s back, if he couldn’t do it himself, which was indeed what seemed to have happened.

James hadn’t needed it to be made public that it had been the original Captain America miraculously found alive in the ice who’d been fighting the aliens. He’d known it from the first seconds of relatively clear video he’d seen, because he still remembered how Steve moved, and it couldn’t have been anyone else throwing the shield like that. It was still hard to believe, but it was true, Steve was indeed alive in the world again, and James wasn’t stupid enough to think that their paths wouldn’t come together at some point.

He was still not sure if he wanted it to happen.

Predictably there was a lot of skepticism toward Steve’s identity in the media as well as from regular people, and James could foresee Steve having to do some interviews, something he’d undoubtedly hate as much as he had during the war. For now nothing was yet published, but it probably wouldn’t take that many days. 

At least no one seemed to be aware yet that Captain America was residing in his old borough, albeit in somewhat better class of an apartment than he’d had before the war. James sneaked there under the cover of the night, avoiding the SHIELD agents by climbing on the roof of the building across the street. It was careless of them, really, because if someone wanted to take out Captain America, they definitely would try from a distance first. Realistically, James himself was the only single operative, albeit retired these days, who had enough skills and strength to have any confidence of taking Steve in close combat, and yet even he would have gone for his rifle as the first option.

So far there was no one but him lurking around, and he contemplated messaging Natalia to point out the insufficient protection, but then again, he wasn’t at all thrilled about the idea of SHIELD hovering around Steve, especially in his neighborhood. He didn’t linger for too long either, he didn’t let himself. He did manage to see Steve, through a gap in the curtains, and the complicated feeling in his chest made him turn and walk away after only a few seconds, because he didn’t trust himself to act sensibly if he stayed.

At least Steve seemed well enough, healthy and moving easily. He did look lonely in the drab and boring apartment, but James couldn’t help him with that.

* * *

Steve disappeared for a while after his first interview, during which he seemed impossibly sad in general and more than a little incensed at some of the questions, even though it was obvious there had been a list of untouchable subjects given to the interviewer. James didn’t have it in him to watch it live, he waited until that night, watched the interview once and then never again. At least it did the job of making people believe it was Steve for real.

Even though there must have been a scary number of paparazzi and hack journalists trying to follow Steve at all times, he somehow managed to lose them when he left the city. There was no news for several weeks, and James hoped Steve had found at least some kind of peace on the road or wherever he’d gone.

For him there wasn’t that much peace in offer. Two days after Steve’s interview he got a message on the phone only two people knew the number for. He had rather expected Natalia to approach him in some way, but she had stayed quiet. Instead the message was from Peggy Carter.

His and Carter’s relationship had been complicated from the start, and even more so over the last few decades, ever since the Soviet branch of Hydra had made the mistake of sending the Winter Soldier to New York, and he’d shed his conditioning for long enough to get away and warn SHIELD of the beast in their midst. The soldier had been sent out to perform a two folded task; to find out if one of their spies had become unreliable and dispose of him if needed, as well as to find out from him how close Howard Stark was in his not quite secret effort of recreating Erskine’s serum. Their spy had become evasive regarding the matter a couple of years into the eighties, and they had received less and less intelligence from the American branch of Hydra, a sure sign of impending power struggle within the organization. All of that in mind, the Russians had sent their most terrifying asset. Not the most subtle; for that they could have used one of the Widows, but they had started to taste desperation when thinking of the consequences of the American Hydra branch getting the serum first. In that case the benefits wouldn’t have trickled toward the Soviets, and they would have diminished in power if the Americans had found a way to make their own enhanced operatives.

The first thing the Soldier had done for himself after he’d started to remember was to disappear. He had gone underground to weather the withdrawal from all the drugs they had him under, but when he’d set out his head had been clear enough. He hadn’t remembered that much of his past at the time, but there had been enough to know Carter was one he could trust to do the right thing, and she had. Hydra had been exposed, had been driven away, and while James knew they still lingered, especially in Russia and in eastern Europe, they’d lost much of their former foothold, and now SHIELD knew to keep a lookout for them. Carter had also offered him a position with SHIELD, had offered to bring him officially back to life, but he had declined, and instead taken up residence in Brooklyn. It had been hard at first to think of what exactly he would try to live for, but the city itself had come calling.

James had seen the way criminals were taking advantage of the borough, and had decided to deal with it in a way only he probably could; by tackling the problem from the inside. SHIELD had turned a blind eye on his movements as long as he kept it clean, and had probably advised other agencies to follow suit. It was an odd sort of relatively public secret, that the combined Irish and Russian mob was making Brooklyn safer, but it was true. It also helped with staving off the gentrification despite the increasing stability, because the people viewing to set up big developments of expensive areas were uncomfortable with the shadow side, although not so much that they didn’t need to be reminded sometimes, very politely as it was. Now smaller businesses flourished and while prices of apartments were still New York high, they weren’t completely ridiculous. James generally thought he’d been doing fairly well.

Carter thought so too, as was apparent from her occasional messages to him. He’d given her the number after he’d come to the conclusion she wouldn’t abuse the privilege. They weren’t friends, and probably never would be since James had never been comfortable around her even though he had an immense respect for her. She had the number, and she was always the first to make contact, he kept the distance. This time the message made him half want to throw the phone in the wall, but he didn’t. He needed more context since she started with,  _ They didn’t tell me they found him. _

Considering her ties to SHIELD, even now that she’d retired, James couldn’t understand why she would have been kept in the dark about Steve, because she was still sharp as a tack, even taking into account the comment she had made the previous time they’d talked that it appeared her memory was finally failing. It wasn’t a major issue yet, and she absolutely would have known to keep the secret, because she was still keeping masses of them. It made no sense for her to not know about Steve.

_ Why? Surely you’re the first one on their list of people he knows. _

James had only typed the message and sent it out before he started to see why SHIELD might have chosen to act the way they had, and her response confirmed it, sending a chill down his spine.

_ The best way to make sure a new asset is started on the path you want is to not allow distractions. I’m sure he’s been surrounded by people who treat him like Captain America, for whom Steve Rogers is just a name. _

Hydra might have been purged from SHIELD, but it didn’t mean their methods, especially in a world that was getting murkier all the time when it came to boundaries between security, privacy, and rights, were all pure. From what little he’d seen of the man, James believed Nick Fury had an eye first and foremost on the global scale, on making sure threats were eliminated and contained, and to do that he needed the best tools. It was why he’d tried to recruit James until he’d made it very clear he would never be interested. Now Steve, newly woken up in an unfamiliar world, would be vulnerable, easy to be made rely on the supposed security of SHIELD, especially since it was an organization founded by his former compatriots. Even with his outdated knowledge needing to be updated, Steve would be a formidable asset, both because of his skills and the serum, but also for his image, for the idea people had of Captain America in their minds. James believed Nick Fury would use every strategy he had to make sure Steve joined the organization.

Of course, he clearly didn’t really know Steve, because these manipulative tactics, while maybe efficient at first while Steve was vulnerable, most likely would spectacularly backfire when Steve was more stable. Maybe James should have given Natalia a hint. Or maybe not, because that would lead to the discussion about Steve with her, and he absolutely wasn’t ready for it.

His phone chimed again.  _ He’s visiting me tomorrow. Can I tell him about you? _

The question sent a wave of nausea across his whole body, made him think of all the blood he’d spilled.

_ I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m not the person he knew. _

_ Well, who is? _ Her reply came lightning fast.  _ But if he’s like you when it comes to the aging thing, then you truly may be his only lasting connection. And he yours. _

James didn’t have anything to say to it, and almost half an hour later Carter sent him one more message.

_ I won’t mention you tomorrow. But please consider making contact. _

He shoved the phone away after reading it, opened a window, and lit up a cigarette. He sat on the wide sill, smoking, and looked up to the darkening sky. There was a yellowish hue to it, the streetlights reflecting from the permanent haze hovering over the city. Sometimes James missed the clear skies in Siberia. He hated the idea of missing anything from his time as a prisoner, but the vast black night sky, with stars bright as diamonds, too many to count, had brought him moments of peace and quiet, and he did miss it, despite everything. Looking at the sky here with all the stars blotted out with light pollution was nothing like it. It made the universe feel smaller, made it harder to find the perspective outside of what was happening in his life.

He thought back to the day everything changed, to a morning in late April 1983 when he’d just arrived to New York and was walking down the street, unremarkable in his jeans and black coat. He’d been sent out with a time frame but no close supervision since he’d handled every assignment to the letter for decades, and so he’d been by himself, carrying his duffel filled with weapons, headed to a safehouse. On the way he’d passed one of the industrial areas, and unsurprisingly the high wall at the edge had been graffitied to the last inch. He hadn’t really paid attention to it until he’d seen from the corner of his eye something that had made him stop and look at it head on.

Up until then he’d only been to America once, and that had been a very tightly supervised mission, in and out, so it wasn’t a surprise that his final mission had been the first time he’d come across the image of Steve’s shield. It had been there, painted over the bricks, and he remembered thinking that Steve would have found it funny to have his symbol used for anarchy. The second thought had been to wonder where exactly that first thought had come from, and after that there had been several days of pain and confusion.

If he’d been expected to report back regularly, he wouldn’t have managed to escape, but his handlers had decided it would have been too risky to have frequent communications so close to SHIELD headquarters, and so he’d had time to get through the first few days during which he’d been barely functional due to his brain rerouting itself, or perhaps discovering old pathways. A few days in he still hadn’t been doing great, but he’d been able to think at least, enough to manage a disappearance act.

Now it was three decades later, and he couldn’t help but think that even with his memories mostly regained, actually coming into contact with Steve would be at least as big a turmoil as he’d suffered due to the symbol that once more was everywhere around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the art [also on twitter](https://twitter.com/auntiesuze/status/1191188338855858176).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James considers the problem of Steve, can't quite stay away, and does something very stupid.

In the days and weeks after the sky had opened and everyone in the world had received a resounding answer to the question whether there was intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, the amount of graffiti depicting Steve’s shield had drastically increased. In fact, all of the Avengers were featured, but Brooklyn remembered its own, and the shield was the most prominent there by a significant margin. James was glad of it, it felt like the right way of celebrating Steve’s return since he himself wasn’t equal to even contemplating making it any more personal.

The city slowly recovered its functions, daily life returned to its tracks once more, similar but changed, and James kept looking out for it in his own way. He of course knew that every upheaval was considered an opportunity by those who wanted to seize power for themselves and upset the regular order of things, so he ordered his crew to stay even more vigilant than usual, and did the same himself.

A week after what people had started to call the Incident, the I very much capitalized, when the airports had been opened again and business was starting to recover to its usual state, a Hydra cell made a monumentally stupid move and tried to set up a base in Brooklyn. They really should have known better; any other group tended to be sent packing with minimal casualties unless they insisted on being idiots, but Hydra was an exception, and they knew it too. If a member of Hydra stepped a foot in Brooklyn they would need to be uncommonly stealthy, which tended to mean there was no way of operating considering the size of James’ network, or they’d get captured, assessed whether they were working with a sound mind and not brainwashed, and if so, they were killed, no exception.  _ Ever. _ The brainwashed ones were given to the care of SHIELD. James had empathy for those whose minds had been overthrown, but none for the people who worked for Hydra freely. This time the team was taken out as usual, all relevant information was relayed to Natalia, and life went on.

Five weeks after the Incident, Steve returned and settled at his Brooklyn apartment once more. Unsurprisingly he immediately started volunteering for the cleanup effort, although he couldn’t to the extent he probably would have wished to, because whenever people recognized him a bunch of paparazzi and other vultures tended to gather around. Steve always left at that point, because he didn’t want to make the process more difficult for the workers.

Meanwhile James had relayed a message via Natalia to SHIELD that their agents camping out in Brooklyn was not appreciated, and, miraculously, they had listened and left. James knew they regularly made rounds in Steve’s neighborhood, but he was happy as long as there was no permanent stakeout near Steve’s apartment. Steve was probably too, based on one of the messages he received from Natalia.

James himself quietly went and, armed with a transmission blocker that was apparently brand new experimental Stark tech and not generally available to SHIELD that Peggy Carter had gifted him, did a thorough search in Steve’s apartment for bugs while Steve was away. He found one camera and several listening devices, all of which he crushed before departing without a trace. While there he couldn’t help but notice the scarcity of personal items in the apartment, the bare walls and severely functional furniture. It appeared to be a place to stay but not to live in.

After the excursion James was a lot more worried about Steve than he had been before, but it didn’t mean he was any more prepared to make contact. He kept avoiding places where Steve might go, because he really didn’t want to suddenly run into Steve without any preparation. If they ever were to reconnect again, James wanted it to be on his terms.

He also told his crew to not mess with Steve. Not that they deliberately would have, but there was always a chance of a situation where they might come across Steve, as had been proved on the day when James had found out Steve was alive. James told them to always back off no matter what and to immediately tell him. He actually didn’t know what he would do if such a situation arose, but the first priority was to avoid accidents. Understandably his crew was a bit uneasy about Steve living in the borough and what it might mean, but they seemed to take James for his word when he told them there was no need to worry. It didn’t escape him that considering his tendency to pick smart people to his crew, some of them probably had already figured out his identity, at the very least now that all documentaries ever made of Captain America and the Howling Commandos were being aired again, but no one had said a word yet. At least they were smart enough for that.

It was a discussion he knew he would have to prepare for, if not from his crew, then at the very least from Natalia, because she would find out if she hadn’t yet known, and she would have no scruples bringing it up.

No questions came, though, and as the weeks passed and Steve seemed to settle back in the city, James too relaxed into his life as much as he ever did.

* * *

James’ resolve lasted a whole three weeks before he found himself up on the roofs near Steve’s building, making his way toward a good vantage point. He knew, even as he was reasoning in his mind that it was only to make sure no one was shadowing Steve, that he wasn’t being honest with himself about the reasons for the trip. He knew there was no one currently threatening Steve, because his crew, by now better trained than underground agents in general, made sure of it, and James was confident they would have noticed if something was going on. There was no need for him to go and do an additional check, and yet here he was, settling in the shadow of a chimney, up on the roof opposite Steve’s apartment.

James changed the batteries in the small hidden camera they kept there, not to spy on Steve, it didn’t show the inside of the apartment, but the perimeter. It was meant to catch people trying to set up surveillance on Steve. Someone needed to of course maintain it, but generally it wasn’t James’ job, and even now he did it just to have an excuse to be there.

After the initial hesitation of having Captain America, the apparent paragon of virtue and lawfulness, living in Brooklyn had passed, James’ crew had actually taken a shine on Steve in a protective way. Funnily it wasn’t that different from what James himself felt, even if in his case it was a lot more intense, for all that he mostly tried to not think about any of it. The protectiveness had probably spread partly because James was so obviously keen on making sure Steve was safe and left alone, everyone definitely saw it even if he never elaborated on the reasons. Some of the public statements Steve had made had also helped.

Whenever he was accosted by journalists at one of the cleanup sites, Steve had spoken of issues he considered important, one of his usual arguments being that the initial recovery efforts should be more focused on the sites frequented by the underprivileged, because they usually didn’t have alternatives. Millionaires could relatively easily find replacement apartments and services for the time being, but if a community hospital was out of commission that meant even more deaths than the initial attack had caused. If a public school was closed, the children had even less chances to battle poverty and would more likely fall to the fringes of society, and if a homeless shelter was closed a direct consequence was that more people were sleeping rough. Most of James’ crew came from an underprivileged background, since even with the unusual relationship that they had with law enforcement, being part of the mob wasn’t exactly the top choice of career for those who had options. After hearing his opinions, they had all started to consider Steve one of them in spirit, despite the fact that these days he could afford to live in a nice apartment.

It was indeed a nice apartment that Steve lived in, but there was still no sign that he was making any effort to decorate it to be more like a home. Through the windows James couldn’t see anything new inside, no pictures on the walls, no colorful pillows, and just one blanket on the back of the couch. He’d also received another message from Peggy Carter, it must have been after Steve had visited her, because the only thing she’d said was Steve was struggling and sad. It was evident from what James could see of his apartment, and he also knew why Carter had made sure he knew. She wanted him to do something about it, but there was still the wall he kept running into, the doubt that it would do any good for Steve to know he was still alive.

When James had settled at his hideout, Steve hadn’t been at home, but he arrived soon enough. Apparently he had at least embraced the modern habit of takeout meals; the containers he’d brought looked like they contained Chinese, which James knew from experience was a good choice for people like them who needed more calories than people in general did. James rather regretted he hadn’t brought a snack when he watched Steve eat and absentmindedly look out of the window as he did so. James was suddenly relieved that at least Steve didn’t have to struggle with finding enough food nowadays, he’d been on extra rations during the war, but James remembered it had rarely been enough.

Steve did look sad, listless and lonely, and the sudden ache in James’ heart took him by surprise. He’d thought he’d settled in, had made a new life for himself that included people from the past in only a minimal capacity, and he’d been content, if not happy. He’d thought he’d managed to leave it all behind, except apparently there was no leaving Steve behind, the man was determined to live, and now that he was here, James could no longer pretend his past life didn’t matter. It was hard seeing Steve like this, although he told himself he shouldn’t be too worried about it yet, Steve had only woken up some months ago, and it was logical he’d need time to adjust and get used to the world. He could have maybe used some more help with it, someone to push him forward and help him slot into the present rather than just letting him linger in the past. At least someone should update his clothes.

There was an obvious answer to the question who that someone could be, and at least according to Peggy Carter should be, but James sidestepped that thought once again and continued observing.

There was a ray of hope though; after the meal Steve pulled out a sketchbook and pencils, and started drawing. James remembered it was something that had always helped Steve center himself, to find a momentary calm no matter where he was, and hopefully it still would work. When James had taken care of the bugs in Steve’s apartment he hadn’t seen any art supplies, nor had Steve kept them with him, which meant they were new. Steve had at least taken up something he had always enjoyed, something that wasn’t necessary or something to do with SHIELD. It was a good thing, and with that knowledge James finally could start toward home.

* * *

Over the next several weeks James occasionally went to see Steve. It was mostly at his home, just because following Steve around the city was fraught with risk. Clearly his instincts worked as well as ever, and he always appeared wary, checking his surroundings and looking around when James followed him. Maybe Steve somehow sensed someone was at his heels, or maybe he was just generally paranoid. James couldn’t throw stones on that front, considering he definitely was paranoid, but it did mean he had to be careful.

It appeared Steve didn’t have too much on his plate these days. Clearly he hadn’t yet taken a job with SHIELD, he would have been home a lot less if he had, nor had he taken up any of the offers of publicity that had to be coming in thick. Every talk show in town was probably salivating over the idea of having Captain America on air, even those who didn’t seem to know what to do with his clearly progressive values demonstrated in the interviews gained when someone stopped him on the street or at the cleanup sites. Steve was never bothered at home. By now the press knew where he lived, but they’d also soon figured out that if they loitered around someone would come and very decisively escort them away. James had instructed his people to be polite but firm, and apparently the message had been received the way he’d intended.

He sometimes wondered if Steve was aware that there were people making sure he was at peace at home, and what he thought about it. Maybe he thought it was SHIELD’s doing, or possibly Tony Stark’s. James didn’t know the man personally, but he had the impression Stark had a tendency to meddle with the business of people he cared about or found interesting, and Steve probably fell in the latter category at least, if not the former as well.

He hadn’t so far seen any evidence of SHIELD trying to recruit Steve, beyond a visit from Nick Fury back on that first day, but he knew they must have been trying hard, because someone like Steve would be useful for them. James didn’t really think the agency would be a good fit for Steve. He himself was still a bit leery about them, even though he had a reasonable trust that they were keeping a tight internal watch to make sure that something like the Hydra infiltration wouldn’t happen again. Their methods in general came off dubious to James, and he knew that as Steve got up to speed with how the world worked, he probably wouldn’t see eye to eye with Nick Fury on a lot of things. It might be better if he chose to do something else, but James suspected Steve still considered it his duty to try and help, and since SHIELD was a natural continuation for his unit during the war, more than a nudge would be needed to get him to reconsider. Peggy Carter probably had already talked him about it, and perhaps it was the reason Steve was still adrift.

James did once see Natalia visiting Steve, and while it might have had something to do with recruiting, at least in the sense of trying to get Steve to make friends with the current agents, he also thought that Natalia herself probably wasn’t doing much of the actual recruiting. She thrived within the agency, but she also had a very clear idea of its limitations and character, including the fact that it wasn’t for most people, and that for some it would be better to stay away. Steve seemed to like her at least, and James sincerely hoped they might be on the way toward a friendship.

A month since he first went to see Steve, James was once more on the way there when he started thinking about it, and realized it was the third day in a row that he was doing so, and couldn’t help but cringe at it. Since he was very much of the opinion it wasn’t okay when other people spied on Steve, he had to be honest with himself and admit it wasn’t okay when he was doing it either. He would have to make a change sooner rather than later, because the way things were now wasn’t sustainable.

Even so, his conviction on the matter wasn’t enough to make him turn around and go back home. He climbed up to his usual spot, and immediately got a clear view of Steve through the open window. James found it funny sometimes, albeit more often it was just aggravating, that Steve was so careless about his windows, often keeping the blinds and curtains open. He must have known there was a chance someone was looking to see what he was doing, but perhaps it was similar to what they sometimes had used to do back when they lived together before the war, deliberately keeping the curtains open to show people they had nothing to hide. With that thought, James had to wonder if Steve now too had something to hide the way they used to. Probably not, since even the old reason no longer was something that would throw one into jail.

It was immediately obvious Steve was restless that night. He had a sketchbook on his lap, but he wasn’t drawing, he was tapping the paper with his pencil and staring at the wall opposite. James recognized the mood. It wasn’t something he’d remembered before he’d seen Steve again, but he apparently could still interpret a lot of Steve’s body language. He’d noted over the last few weeks that Steve seemed to be on edge, frustrated, and bottling things up, and right now he was nearing a place where something was bound to burst out. James had years and years of memories that pointed to the conclusion. He’d even seen it before during his spying, albeit not quite as pronounced as that night. The last time Steve had ended up at the gym and spent a few hours pummeling bags there. He’d come out looking, if not quite at peace, at least calmer. James fully expected him to go there again when Steve finally threw his sketchbook and pencil on the table and got up.

There was at least some caution in Steve, because the blinds in his bedroom were always closed, and so James waited while Steve presumably changed into his gym clothes. He decided to head back home, maybe spend some time in his basement gym, just as soon as he’d seen Steve on his way. It was nearing midnight after all, and while he didn’t sleep as much as most people, he did need to get up fairly early the next day.

His plans got a drastic change when Steve came back into view, definitely not wearing gym appropriate clothing. He’d started to wear jeans while he’d been away from New York, but the pair on him now was significantly tighter than anything James had yet seen. In addition, he wore a simple white henley, the long sleeves carelessly pushed halfway up his forearms. What most surprised James, though, was that Steve had changed his hair. It was now tousled out of the neat side part Steve still favored, and while James obviously recognized him, he realized that wherever Steve was going, people might think he seemed familiar but probably wouldn’t make a connection to Captain America, because he now didn’t hearken back to the image at all.

James watched as Steve grabbed his keys, no jacket because it wasn’t too cold yet, and apparently deliberately left his phone on the table. Considering he was at least friendly with Natalia, Steve must have been aware he could be tracked via the phone, and if the night’s excursion was anything like James suspected it might be, Steve probably wouldn’t want a lot of people to know.

It was now impossible to leave, James felt compelled to see where Steve was going, and so he followed along. Steve was preoccupied during the walk, not nearly as vigilant as usual, which helped James stay undetected on the relatively empty streets. Steve moved briskly along, determination obvious in every step, but James could see a line of nervousness in his shoulders.

The walk was relatively short, not even ten blocks, and a few minutes before Steve arrived James guessed where he was going, and hence wasn’t surprised when at the entrance to the club Steve slowed for a second, visibly drew a breath, and then ducked inside. James turned the corner and hauled himself up on another roof, right across the street from the club which was the most prominent gay establishment in the nearby area.

James of course remembered that there was another way for Steve to let out steam than beating up stuff, and since he was here, it was obvious he was looking for relief of that particular sort. As far as James knew, this was the first time Steve went looking for some casual company, but then again as far as Steve knew, his former partner was long dead. James couldn’t quite make himself appreciate the irony that he was standing right across the street.

Minutes passed. Each one of them was an eternity, time crawling forward while James wondered what was about to happen. He waited, watching as people came and went, mostly in groups and pairs, looking happy and carefree. Soon a thought started to crystallize in his head; he really should leave. It wasn’t right for him to be spying on Steve in general and definitely not now. Not with the memories of their shared past and the perpetual confusion of what he actually wanted crowding his head.

He did decide to leave, he was on his feet and turning away, except Steve came out of the club just then, and he was not alone. Had James been just fifteen seconds faster coming to a decision, he would have gone home and probably wondered about what had happened, but now he had to see Steve smiling at the other man, who only after a few yards’ walk from the club door ran his hand down Steve’s back and grabbed his belt, pulling him to the side. Steve followed easily, pushing the other man against the wall and bending to kiss him, hands gripping firmly at his sides.

James didn’t think, probably wasn’t capable of forming a coherent thought right at that moment. He flashed cold, then hot, and all he could do was stare, even though he wanted to be literally anywhere but there, didn’t want to know Steve had picked up someone obviously for sex, and the way things were progressing it was dubious whether they’d even make it back to Steve’s.

He didn’t think, and he only realized what he’d done when the knife had already left his hand. He hadn’t aimed to hurt anyone, the knife hit the wall over a yard to the side of Steve and the other man, but it clattering down made Steve jerk away from the man, his posture changing from eager to cautious as he scanned his surroundings for where the knife came from.

James was moving already, because he knew Steve wouldn’t need long to figure out where the throw had come from, and even as he was now, stronger and faster than a regular human being, he was still fairly sure Steve was a bit ahead of him, what with him having received the pure version of serum against the patchwork in James’ veins, and it would give him an advantage in a chase. He needed to get away, because he really wasn’t ready to face Steve now, like this. He shouldn’t have been there, he should have left or better yet never come, but it had been too late when Steve came back out, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

Steve gave chase, but James got away reasonably easily, mostly due to his dark clothes and the fact that he knew the terrain much better. In the end he melted into the shadows, watching Steve pause and look around, obviously knowing he’d lost the trail. He had picked up the knife, and James saw him stand there for a moment, contemplating it, before he started back toward home.

James waited for a while more, just in case Steve lingered around to see if anyone would emerge, before he headed back home as well. He knew there would be consequences, probably very soon, because Steve wouldn’t let go, and if he knew where to ask, he would be on James’ tail in no time. James would have to figure out how to deal with it, but for now he pushed it away, deciding to look into it the next morning with a hopefully clearer head. Right now he was too mixed up, regretting his actions and not the least because Steve had gone to seek relief for his agitation, and James really hadn’t helped him with that. There was also a shameful sense of relief that in the end Steve had gone home alone. James hated himself for that, because he was aware he no longer had any claim over Steve.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning visit that leads to a decision.

James slept fitfully that night. Finally at five a.m. he gave up and left the bed, deciding to go for some strong coffee instead in hopes of a clear head, even though it didn’t really do anything for him physically. The placebo effect still worked, though. Stepping into his open plan combined kitchen and living room he realized he was definitely going to need it, since Natalia was sitting on his balcony. She appeared relaxed; lounging in his favorite chair with her feet resting on the railing, looking unusually cozy in the hoodie she was wearing, and her wave at James was entirely too energetic for the hour. He knew it was no coincidence that she had come to see him, and that his respite was over.

He waved at her in acknowledgment, but didn’t yet go outside. Instead he started the coffee and took out two mugs. That she was there so soon told him something, as did the fact that she had settled on the balcony to wait rather than come inside. He knew she could have opened any one of his complicated locks in his windows and balcony door that kept regular thieves at bay, but they both also knew that had she entered, she would have woken him. From her approach, he judged she considered what had happened with Steve a serious enough incident that it needed to be taken up as soon as possible, but that she wasn’t too worried about it or for Steve’s safety, because otherwise she would have just woken him up rather than wait. Had she really been worried, she might even have brought backup. James knew there were people who would consider what happened the previous night as him stepping over the boundaries he was permitted to keep.

He made the coffees, Natalia’s exactly the way he knew she liked, and took them outside. She even smiled a bit when she took her mug, and it relaxed him enough that he could throw himself into the other chair and drink the coffee, letting the warmth seep in. Not that he needed the coffee for either warmth or alertness, the temperature at night had barely dropped low enough to warrant long sleeves, and even now with the sun still below the horizon it really couldn’t be considered cold.

After a few minutes Natalia shifted, pulled out the knife that James had thrown only some hours earlier, and set it on the table. The blade was damaged at the tip from the force of the throw, but otherwise there was nothing special about it, she was just making a point.

“You’re really lucky Steve decided to call me rather than his SHIELD minders about this,” Natalia said mildly.

“I know.” James rubbed at his eyes. “I was stupid last night, I’ve been stupid for a while now, really, and I’m regretting it.”

“So, what exactly could possess you to throw a knife at Captain America?”

As was typical, she didn’t shy away from asking straight away, but James wasn’t at all prepared to actually say out loud what had been going on in his head. He didn’t really have words for the mess of confusion and jealousy, and so he found himself deflecting.

“Had I thrown it at him I sure as hell would have hit him, you know that.”

She quirked her mouth at him, amused. “I know, James.” She paused, fixing one of her piercing gazes at him, making it hard for him to keep impassive despite having come up similar path as she had. “Or is it Bucky?”

James flinched with his whole body, badly enough that he dropped his mug. He was so shaken he couldn’t grab it from the air, and it shattered on the stone, splashing coffee on his foot.

“Don’t,” he said. “Just, please.”

Natalia nodded slowly, her focus still completely on him. “I won’t use that name anymore if you don’t want me to. It doesn’t really feel right for me anyway, but I also want you to stop trying to misdirect me.”

James got to his feet, still feeling unsteady. “I hear you, and I’ll get to it. I’m just going to need another mug of coffee.”

He went back inside, drank his first mug at one go, and refilled. He took the mug as well as a bottle of whiskey back out to the balcony, topped both his and Natalia’s coffees from the bottle, and tried to relax again into the chair as he sipped his drink.

It wasn’t easy to settle again. The name that had once been his and that James had mostly successfully not thought about for several decades felt like it was lingering in the air, crawling under his skin. He’d reconciled himself with James a long time ago. He’d needed a name besides the Soldier, and while it was his, it was removed enough from the most painful memories he’d had to push away that it hadn’t been too hard to use. All these decades he’d felt like he could be a James, but he hadn’t, and still didn’t, feel like he was Bucky.

Even after he’d found out Steve was alive, he’d managed to not really think of what it would mean to him personally, he’d still kept that part of his identity at the back of his mind and stuck to what he was to the people here and now. Only he hadn’t done what would have been sensible, even though Carter kept reminding him she thought he was being an idiot; he’d gotten entangled with Steve again even if from a distance. He’d been the one to mix his new life with the old, and he really couldn’t complain about something that was at root his own doing.

“How long have you known?” he finally asked Natalia.

“Not long,” she said. “You know my training was always focused on the current period, and while I learned American history both in the Red Room and after I defected, I hadn’t seen that many pictures of you from before. You look very different now compared to the official army photos, your expression is different, and besides, I never really paid very close attention, because what James Barnes looked like wasn’t relevant to anything I was doing.”

“So, what changed?”

“My first clue was your interest in Steve. Obviously some of it was warranted just because of who he is, and some other things because I understand your ties to this city. But then it felt too personal, that you’d take the trouble of weeding his apartment of bugs. Wanting SHIELD off your streets was logical, taking that extra step not so much. And then I saw Steve’s drawings of you, that made it click.”

“Of me?”

“He draws a lot of people. You, Director Carter, your team from the war, a woman that must have been his mother, a girl that looks enough like you to be your sister. Even us, the Avengers, sometimes. He’s really very good at it.”

“He wanted to make a living with it, before.”

“But didn’t?”

“He went to an art school for a semester, but we were too poor for it. He did some professional drawing and painting, signs and such, portraits for tourists, but not in any regular manner.”

“Maybe he could pick it up now,” Natalia said, making a face as she paused. “If he manages to resist Fury trying to lure him into SHIELD.”

“Do you think he will? Resist, I mean.”

She let out a gusty blow of air. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on whether he finds something else to hold on to.”

She glanced at him when she spoke, but James resolutely kept his expression neutral. It was too close to what Carter had been telling him all along, and Natalia too seemed to think that considering who he was, he might be able to do something to help Steve. James wasn’t so sure that it would work in the end, but he knew better than to protest.

“You recognized me from his drawings,” James said, coming back to the topic at hand.

“The one that clicked for me was one he said was a memory from right before the mission to the train. He blames himself, you know, for what happened to you.”

There was a pang of something in James’ chest, not quite guilt, not quite anger or sadness either, but perhaps a mixture of them all. “It wasn’t his fault. It was just something that happens in war. At some point your luck runs out, and we’d been stretching it for over a year.”

Natalia smiled, a bit sad. “He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d believe that so easily.”

“No, he certainly wasn’t, and I doubt it’s changed. That’s another reason for me to keep away from him, because he’d feel guilty for some of the other stuff that happened to me and that really wasn’t his fault.”

“On the other hand, it would probably help him to know how well you’ve overcome it all, not to mention just you being here. But I think you’re ignoring the point here, you were the one who made contact.”

“Not that I meant to,” James said, hating how petulant it came out.

She hesitated, appearing to search for words, but James was fairly sure she had them already, and was just waiting to give him a moment. “I’ve noticed, both from talking to Steve, and now with you, that clearly there was more to your relationship than the official biographies say. I think it was definitely messier than people know, but you need to figure things out. Like I said, you’re lucky Steve came to me about last night.”

“I know. I crossed a line. I’ve known for a while I was being stupid and just didn’t do anything about it, because actually looking at it meant I’d have to confront a lot of stuff I’d buried. I’ll work on it.”

“Good. Make sure you do, because I need to have something concrete to give to Steve soon, and that depends on what you want to do.”

“I think, it’s not that I don’t want to meet him again, because I really do. I’m glad he’s here and has a new chance at life. I just have no idea what he’ll think of what I’ve become.”

James let himself slump down in the chair, and Natalia reached out to touch his hand for a second before withdrawing, significant considering how tight the barriers she set around herself were. She remained quiet for a moment, maybe now really considering the exact right words.

“You know that most people at SHIELD don’t trust me, right? They work with me, but I’m still a defector and they will always have reservations when it comes to me. Steve looked at me and didn’t let any of the things other people might have said or what undoubtedly was in my files to affect him. I could see he made the decision how to treat me based on his own assessment. He trusted me to do my job, and he trusted my assessment of Clint even when the only thing Steve knew of him was that he’d tried to kill us all while he was brainwashed by Loki.”

“I’m guessing there’s a point to this,” James said, even though he’d already started to see where she was aiming at.

“Just that if you worry about how he’ll take your past, I have plenty of evidence he’s capable of understanding when someone didn’t have a choice. He did so when it wasn’t his best friend, so I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

“Yeah, you would,” James said, and she grinned slightly in acknowledgment.

She got up then, setting her mug on the small table next to the bottle of whiskey that was half empty by now.

“Thanks for the coffee. And like I said, don’t take too long deciding how you want to move forward.”

She climbed straight down from the balcony, leaving James to his thoughts. She had a point, and James believed she was right, Steve probably would understand. He’d also definitely try to bear more than his share of the burden of guilt, and it would hurt him. James didn’t want to cause more pain to Steve, but then again, he was sensible enough to see that perhaps there was a chance for more good things as well.

And perhaps it wasn’t a choice at all, or one he’d already made a long time ago, because it already was obvious he really wasn’t capable of staying away from Steve.

* * *

Thankfully it was a quiet day, as Saturdays usually were. James still went to check on the business, because in his line of work he was never really off duty, but everything was going well enough. Maybe even too well; he’d again heard rumors that there were people making plans regarding the city, buying land with an idea of building expensive apartments and the adjacent services. He liked that the borough was peaceful, a better version of the one he’d lived in before the war, one where people were relatively safe and could afford to live without being millionaires. It was a difficult goal in New York City, because all too often safety tended to lead to gentrification, but his connections reached fairly far.

There was also the additional help of the juggernaut that was Stark Industries; the company appeared to work toward the same goal as he was judging by some of their business choices. James couldn’t figure out why exactly they were doing so, and it was one of the bigger uncertainties in his general plan of existence. He did have a plan for the eventuality of them changing direction, but so far everything had gone well. Sometimes James wondered if it was something to do with Howard setting up the principle. He had known James had settled down in the borough, not to mention he’d missed Steve until the last of his days. James wasn’t sure if Tony Stark would have kept up his father’s practices, but it was the best guess he had.

He stayed away from Steve’s neighborhood; going there would have been way too risky now that Steve knew to be on the lookout. James probably still could have stayed undetected, but he really did not want to chance a meeting before he was a bit clearer on what he wanted.

That evening he finally admitted to himself that he at least should be honest with himself about what exactly he was uncertain about, because it wasn’t that he didn’t know what he wanted to do, exactly. He already did know; he did want to reconnect with Steve. The problem was that he was afraid of how it might go, even though he also knew it was mostly an irrational fear. To turn him away, Steve would have to be a very different person compared to the one James had used to know, and from what he did know, it hadn’t been that long for Steve at all, not long enough that he should expect such a drastic difference. Yet he hesitated, because it was a big deal to have to confess everything that had happened to him while Steve had supposedly been dead. It was something James knew he needed to overcome soon, because Natalia wouldn’t give him too much time.

He also considered what Natalia had said about Steve and SHIELD, as well as what he’d learned from Peggy Carter. It appeared that while Steve was settling into the world that was all new for him, he was still lacking connections, solid ones, and James had no illusions on whether SHIELD might want to capitalize on that. They’d want to bring him into the fold before he was more stable and likely to thoroughly consider what he wanted to do. At least it appeared the Army had decided that since Steve had functionally died once already, they didn’t want to flex their muscles about him owing them service. Of course, they might have made a deal with SHIELD in that regard, which meant they’d become a problem in the eventuality that Steve ended up saying no to SHIELD. Still, it was a distant worry, and James pushed it away.

He was aware that Carter had been gently coaxing him to contact Steve because she knew he’d probably be the best bet to get Steve to really consider his options. She was also most likely trying to get Steve to pick his own way in life rather than just doing what people were at least implying his duty was, but it probably had less chance of sticking, if Steve had a hard time seeing anything other than the lost potential when with her. As different as he now was, James still might coax him toward something new with him, and he found he wanted to see if it might work. Undoubtedly Steve would be on the front lines the next time something like the attack on New York happened again, but other than that, SHIELD’s business in general probably wasn’t what Steve would want to do. Instead he’d be able to maybe fulfill some old dreams, to pick up his art, to properly go to school for it even. It felt right, thinking of the potential.

However right it was, James was still uncertain how exactly he wanted to bring about their meeting, and so he texted Natalia that he needed more time for that. She appeared to be happy that he had at least picked a direction, but also again reminded him to not take too long with it.

The next morning, Sunday though it was, he had to go in to do some paperwork. As he signed his name, something that was usually an act that required no additional thought, he found himself remembering how Natalia had called him Bucky, and how it had felt. His instinctive reaction had been aversion, because he’d avoided even thinking of the name for so long, but now that he’d come to accept he would meet Steve again, the name Steve had always called him didn’t feel that alien anymore. He still wasn’t convinced it was a name that suited him anymore, but even that might change if Steve called him by it.

One of the reasons to not reclaim the name Bucky had been to keep his cover, because by now in popular culture the name was inevitably tied with Captain America’s companion. Ironically, he actually signed his name these days as James Buchanan, which he guessed most people thought was a fake. He encouraged the thinking by making comments along the lines of, “the most useless president of the US,” whenever someone seemed to consider his name, and it tended to work. These days he was sure that considering everything else that had happened, at least some of his closest underlings knew who he really was, but they kept being smart and had never commented on it. Their good judgment was one of the key reasons James had chosen them, and so far he hadn’t had to be disappointed.

He worked for a couple of hours until Kiril came in. From his expression James knew something was up, although Kiril didn’t seem too worried about it.

“What’s going on?”

“A shipment of drugs at one of the warehouses.”

James sighed, because it had been a good long stretch that no one had tried to take that particular road. “Connected to anyone we know?”

“No one local, it seems. Which explains them not knowing better.”

“Right, well, call the crew. There seems to be some lessons that people need to learn.”

In the end, it took a few intense days in addition to everything else he had on plate, but they finally rounded up the drug runners, and made a nice parcel of them and their merchandise for SHIELD, or whoever they referred the bust to. They also collected a finder’s fee, because there were several crates filled with cash, mostly small bills. Undoubtedly proceeds from selling the drugs on the way somewhere to be laundered. Such an amount of cash would be impossible to put into banks, but it didn’t bother James.

“Looks like it’s a bonus day for everyone,” he remarked, to the easy cheers from his crew. He directed the crates to be taken to his own accounting crew that handled the less than legal part of his business and kept it apart from the legal money flow to be counted and stored. For him the amount wouldn’t be a problem; he’d distribute it among his crew over time, with part of it going to several small local charities.

James also got details on who exactly stood on the top of the drug runner pyramid, and to conclude the operation he had a chat with a Colombian drug baron who was very surprised to get a phone call, and in the end, promised to run his business from somewhere else than Brooklyn.

It was a good few days of work, and James felt calm and centered, accomplished in knowing that there would be less people’s lives ruined in the area. It had also distracted him from the matter of Steve, although it never was too far from his mind.

* * *

The next Monday James was looking at his accounts and considering calling Aisha, who worked at one of his above board companies. He’d helped her financially through college, and she was now an expert on patterns of urbanization. They often discussed the best ways for directing the development of the city without it becoming less affordable, and what parts of the planning process they needed to talk with. She usually suggested what needed to be done for the goals to be reached, and James furthered them, sometimes via legitimate channels, sometimes less so.

He often wondered if he should have been ashamed of what he’d become, since the way he operated positioned him above the legitimate processes, and how much the apparently necessary evil of it was countered by the fact that life for Brooklyn’s general population was better these days compared to ever before in his lifetime. It scared him sometimes, how effective he could be at nudging a whole city to a direction of his choosing, how his operation that was by now essentially a large corporation, even though it was hard to tell from the outside, could steer things along. The part that especially worried him was that if he could do it, someone else with more selfish purposes might as well. It sometimes kept him up at night, but most of the time he tried to not think of it, because it was the only way he could function.

He did consider it funny that his predecessors in the lead of the Russian and Irish mobs were definitely rolling around in their graves, because altruism had never been their idea of how to run a business. Yet, James had a crew that was both better trained and better paid than anyone else’s, and he had a much more secure hold of his territory than any of the other mob bosses in New York did, which probably meant winning.

He was distracted from his musings by his assistant Maria, who handled a lot of day to day affairs for him.

“Sofia from the Kofeinya called. Apparently Captain America is there, saying Natalia told him to go there and ask for the owner,” Maria said, sounding apologetic. James in his mind moved her from the column of the people who maybe knew who he used to be into definitely knowing.

He stared at the opposite wall for several long seconds. Clearly Natalia had decided to move things along since he hadn’t managed to come up with a timeline for when exactly he wanted to let Steve know. And maybe it was good. Left to his own devices, he might have waited for a long time, and that would have definitely made things worse for Steve when he finally found out. It was probably better to just get it over with, and then see where they were going.

“Tell Sofia I’ll be on my way. Have her invite Steve in the back room.”

The little coffee shop wasn’t very far, and James decided to walk there rather than take a car. Considering how difficult finding a parking spot tended to be, it was probably faster this way, and he could use the chance to work away some of his jitters. When he walked, he tried to decide what to say to Steve, but realized it was no use, because he’d have to react based on how Steve took the fact that he was alive. In all likelihood he’d be shocked at the very least, at first anyway, but what came after was anyone’s guess.

When James stepped inside the coffee shop, it occurred to him that the choice of the place had been deliberate from Natalia, because he was very much at home there, and she’d probably hoped to mitigate the stress as much as she could. It really was like her; to cut through his bullshit by pushing him, but also easing him into what needed to be done. He was also very aware these benefits were only for him, not for Steve who must have been wondering why exactly he was there, unfamiliar with the surroundings and not knowing what would happen. He knew Natalia hadn’t told Steve, because then the questions Steve had asked would have been very different.

Sofia waved him through to the back room, James declining the offer of coffee and tea, his stomach queasy with nerves. He crossed the room very deliberately, not allowing himself to hesitate, because he didn’t quite trust in himself to not back out of this if he did start thinking about it, and Steve deserved better than that. He went through the door and closed it behind himself before turning to look at Steve, because he wanted to be sure they were private.

Steve had clearly looked up right when he heard the door, because when James finally looked at him, he met Steve’s almost comically round eyes, staring at him in disbelief. James froze on the spot as well, suddenly, albeit not unexpectedly, overwhelmed to be in Steve’s presence. Even though he’d seen Steve from afar, it was nothing like this, nothing like being in the same room just a few feet away, close enough to see the precise shade of blue in Steve’s eyes and the quiver at the corner of his mouth.

“Hi Steve,” he said, his voice an embarrassing croak, and he immediately wanted to sink through the floor, because surely it was the worst greeting he could have come up with, too casual and callous.

Steve was still staring, opening his mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. He was gripping the edge of the table, and only let go when it creaked ominously under his hand. It seemed to shake Steve out of the first shock, and he finally found his voice again, if barely.

“Bucky?” It came out almost whisper, and Steve had to swallow a couple of times before continuing. “Is it really you, or have I finally gone mad?”

“It’s me,” James said, only realizing after the assent that Steve had called him Bucky and it hadn’t felt strange at all. Probably any other name from Steve would have. “For a given definition, anyway,” he felt compelled to add.

“But, how?” 

Steve sounded completely bewildered, but he got up to his feet and made to come toward James, who flinched backward without really meaning to. Steve stopped in his tracks, swallowing, and hugging his arms around himself. James felt bad for him, because he had never wanted to hurt Steve even though he’d managed to convey not wanting to get closer, for all that it was true. It was almost too much already, and he really didn’t think he could handle touching Steve.

Steve finally recovered and continued, “Wait, did Natasha know? Why didn’t she tell me? Where have you been?”

“She did know, but I asked her to not tell you about me at first.”

“Why?” Steve shook his head, as if to reorient himself. “No, first, how are you here? I saw you fall.” Steve’s voice faltered at the end, and James could see he was definitely steeped in guilt over what had happened to him, just as Natalia had told him.

“It seems that when Hydra first got me, Zola’s experiments were partly successful, enough to let me survive the fall.” James shifted a bit, keeping his left hand out of sight. This was clearly hard enough for Steve to process, and he didn’t want to distract him more.

Steve sat down again, as if unable to keep on his feet. “I should have gone back. Oh, Buck, I’m so sorry,” Steve said, his voice anguished as he stared at Bucky. “I know apologies don’t mean anything, but I am. I should have done better.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” James said, trying to convey all the sincerity he had. “You couldn’t have known that I would survive that kind of a fall, and you did the right thing by taking Zola in. I know the timeframe of the final assault was tight. If you’d stopped to look for me you might have missed it, and that would have been bad.”

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but James’ reasoning was solid, and Steve knew it too. Instead of trying to convince him otherwise, Steve visibly collected himself again, and asked another question. “But if you survived, why don’t people know about it? No one said anything when I woke up.”

James drew himself up straighter, because this was it. “I was found by the Russian branch of Hydra, and they made me do their bidding for decades until I escaped in the eighties. After that, I’ve been here in Brooklyn.”

Steve looked like he had about a hundred questions, but the one that finally came out was, “What do you mean, their bidding?”

“They made sure I obeyed, and after that I did their dirty work. Whenever they needed someone stronger and faster, it was me. For assassinations, mostly.” James looked at Steve straight in the eyes, he had dealt with his past and accepted there was no changing it. Now he wanted to see how Steve took it, and at first it seemed he didn’t know what to do with the information. James decided to answer another question he knew Steve must have been burning to ask. “It’s why I didn’t come to you earlier, when I first saw you a couple of days before the aliens. I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

Steve almost got up, maybe wanting to come to James again, but clearly thought better of it once more. “Do you think I care? I thought you’d died, to have you here no matter how is better than that.”

“There were plenty of times I didn’t think so,” James said, and this time Steve flinched, the guilt again clearly surfacing. James softened his tone again. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It was horrible what I went through, I’m not denying it, but I’ve made it here. I’ve made a life for myself, but I’m not the Bucky you knew. They messed up my head, took all my memories. I’ve got a lot of it back, but it’s not the same, and I’m not the same. Can’t be.”

Steve stilled as James spoke, regarding him with thoughtful eyes. “So, what happens now?” he asked, seeming just a bit deflated, although James couldn’t quite figure out the reason why.

“I’m not sure. I don’t have any plans. I think you should know more of me, but I can’t tell all of that story. Like I said, Natalia knew of me, and my story and hers are partially tangled. Her part is not mine to tell, but you could ask her, tell her I said she’s free to tell you anything she needs to concerning me. After that I’ll fill in the rest, if you want to.”

“Okay,” Steve said, still looking subdued.

James then decided to do something he hadn’t really meant to up until then. He rattled out his personal phone number, knowing Steve would remember it with his enhanced memory. “You can always reach me through that. And if I happen to be unavailable, I’ll call you back. I’m glad you’re here, I really am, even though I know I’ve done a shitty job showing it.”

Steve nodded and even managed half a smile. James turned to go, then. Their meeting hadn’t lasted long, but he felt mentally exhausted, more so than the whole drug trafficker incident had left him. Steve didn’t make a move to stop him, he too was probably at least as overwhelmed, likely more so considering this had been a complete surprise for him.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve called, when James had already opened the door and stepped through. “Why do you own a Russian coffee shop?”

“It’s a long story, but I’ll tell you one day, if you still want.”

He left then, only stopping to ask Sofia to take another cup of her strongest coffee for Steve and to tell him that it was all on the house. Outside it had started to rain, and the temperature had dropped. James still walked back rather than call for a cab, deciding to go straight home, because he didn’t feel up to concentrating on work. They’d call him if anything urgent came up, and he could try to make a plan for how to handle subsequent meetings with Steve, provided he still wanted to get to know the new James after he’d processed what he now knew. Steve had said nothing James had done mattered to him, but it had been during the first rush of finding out he was alive. James couldn’t help but fear Steve would second guess some things after he’d had time to digest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James wrestles with his conflicting feelings.

After their meeting, it was easier for James to stay away from Steve, because the contact had been made, and the ball had been moved into Steve’s court. James had texted Natalia to let her know she could tell Steve anything she needed about him to illuminate whatever part of her past she wanted to share, if at all. If she chose to not go into any specifics, James would adapt his story accordingly. He had to admit himself that he was stalling; it really had been an excuse to bring up Natalia’s part in his story to Steve. He could have told enough for Steve to understand without bringing her into it at all, and it probably was cowardly to go about it like this, putting the responsibility in her hands instead, but he still wasn’t ready to let Steve see all of himself, to have to be the one to spread it all out into the light and wait for a judgment. Amazingly, Natalia hadn’t called him out for it either.

Staying away was easier now, but everything else was more difficult. It didn’t help that everything seemed to be moving squarely on its rails, and he just had to go through his days as usual. James almost hoped some upstarts would get into their heads to stage a coup or something so that he’d have something else to think of, but it appeared three decades of solidly kicking his competition’s collective asses had made them decide it was too much trouble to go against him. In the end he held a refresher hand-to-hand combat course for his crew, which helped a little bit by occupying his time and giving him some exercise, even though it wasn’t too strenuous for him since he was fundamentally stronger than anyone else.

A week after his meeting with Steve he still hadn’t heard back, and it was getting harder to be patient, since he didn’t know what Steve’s silence meant. He believed it was not that Steve had just decided James was not worth the trouble, because Steve would consider disappearing an act of cowardice, and would make a point to not appear so. All things considered, a week wasn’t that long a time to try and take in everything that Steve would have to, and the process was probably complicated by the fact he must have been aware James had known about him for months without attempting to make any contact. In addition, he had only stayed for a very short time when they’d met at the coffee house. James knew it would be hard for Steve to not take it personally, especially since in fact it really was personal. The radio silence in return of all that he’d chosen to do and not do shouldn’t have surprised him at all, nor should he expect Steve to give up his own comfort for James’.

The restlessness still felt like an itch under his skin, and for a fleeting moment he considered going out and finding someone to get off with. It had taken him nearly a decade after escaping from Hydra to be comfortable enough so close to anyone, but he’d managed it, and these days having sex sometimes helped him calm down, because it unwound parts of him in a way nothing else did. There hadn’t been any real or lasting relationships for him, he’d never been with anyone more than once since he’d freed himself, and he’d given up even the idea of ever getting there. It was somewhat different now, with Steve in the picture, not that James knew exactly what he wanted. As far as he could remember, he never really had.

He dismissed the idea of finding someone almost as soon as it surfaced, because it just felt wrong and unfair. In a strange way it felt like he owed Steve for disrupting his night outside of the club earlier. Even when Steve wouldn’t have known it if he went out, it still didn’t feel right.

Rather than going out he ended up finding a local art store, and made an order that basically consisted of everything one could dream of wanting if they were to start oil painting. He compensated the store so well that convincing them to arrange a delivery even though they usually didn’t do that wasn’t a problem, and he asked them to send everything to Steve. Afterward he pushed the whole thing out of his head as far as it would go, which wasn’t that far, admittedly. At least he managed to not dwell on his own motives too much; it was impossible to not remember Steve wanting to be an artist and that right now he only had very basic drawing supplies, not much more than he’d had with him during the war.

He also knew that Steve might not take the gift in the spirit it was intended, especially considering the already unsteady footing they were on when it came to reconnecting. It might have been too much, but it was done, and James decided not to worry about it for now.

After ending the call to the art store, he headed for the basement, where he’d set up a punching bag, some weights, and a general space for exercising. He sometimes went out to a gym, but he always needed to be careful if he did, and hence his own space got a lot of use. Not to mention, Steve appeared to at least semi-frequently go to the gym James also liked, and he didn’t want to run into Steve now, he wanted to give him space to make his decision.

The fact that he’d taken the relatively easy road kept niggling at him, asking Steve to talk to Natalia meant that even when he could reason the decision away well enough. In truth he was still hiding. It wasn’t easy to shed the old instincts, because after he’d freed himself he’d also immediately taken measures to guard himself. He always chose very carefully who he trusted, and didn’t really open up to anyone, not even those he spent the most time with. It would be different with Steve by default, considering how important they had used to be to each other, and James didn’t feel at all ready for something like that. He was sure Steve even now knew him well enough it would be impossible to completely hide everything he would have wished to.

He spent nearly two hours in the basement, focusing on just moving his body, and trying to wear himself out enough that he’d fall asleep easily rather than ending up spending a long time awake in bed turning the question of what to do with Steve in his head. He did feel better when he was done, eating a snack and heading for the shower afterward.

It was almost a reflex these days for him to jerk off in the shower, because the way his souped-up body worked was that he needed to get off daily to not get frustrated or distracted. Sometimes he found people to have sex with, but the majority of the time he just took care of it himself. It was so much of a routine for him now that it often wasn’t even about pleasure, and he didn’t really think much of anything, just got it done.

Today though, despite his best efforts to exhaust himself to prevent his mind from wandering, as soon as he got his hand on his dick there were images, memories that he couldn’t banish now that they’d come to him. Ever since he’d found out Steve was alive, it had been impossible to completely ignore the fact that before his fall from the train they’d used to have sex. He just usually avoided thinking about the particulars, but apparently today the memories had decided to come for him with vengeance.

He tried for about ten seconds to focus on nothing but the feeling, but it was impossible to push the surging memories away, and so he gave up and let them in as he upped the pace of his hand on his dick. It was almost a sensory memory that he found of Steve under his hands, small and slight and always pushing for more, or later looking like a Greek statue come to life, brimming with all that strength and power, but surprisingly pliant when in bed with him, letting go of all the pressure piled on him for a moment.

James leaned his forehead on the tiles warmed up by the spray, stroking upward and swiping his thumb across his cockhead the way he liked, just the way Steve had known he liked, and he came with the remembered heat of Steve’s body surrounding him.

He stayed leaning against the wall under the spray for several minutes, letting his breathing regain its usual rhythm, letting the memories fade to the back of his head once more. He’d almost expected to feel guilty for these fantasies, but at least for now he didn’t, they were his memories after all. They were true things that had happened to him regardless of whether something akin to them would ever happen again, and it was no one’s business but his what he did with them.

Somewhat surprisingly he actually did fall asleep easily and swiftly that night, and he slept well through several hours until very early in the morning. It was still dark when he blinked awake, but he was feeling lazy for once and didn’t get up immediately like he usually did. He relished these mornings when his mind had let go of its usual paranoia at least a little, and he could just relax in bed without feeling the need to go and do a perimeter check. He did have a very good security system, not to mention he would wake up if someone broke into the apartment, but there were still a lot of days when knowing it wasn’t enough. He did hope it would keep on getting better.

As he lay there, he finally allowed himself to remember his life with Steve, and especially the more intimate parts no one but the two of them by necessity ever knew of. If he’d had to explain it, he still couldn’t have pinpointed the exact reason why they’d fallen in bed together; it had just happened fairly soon after they’d moved together after Steve’s mother had passed. They’d never talked about what it meant to them, and it hadn’t changed their relationship outside of the bed at all. James remembered that in his head he’d always distanced their general closeness and how important Steve had been to him from the sex, and he could guess now that a fair bit of it had stemmed from fear of admitting any connection or correlation between them and the possible consequences.

Because of this, he didn’t actually know what Steve used to think of it either. He remembered Steve’s reactions, how sex had seemed to quiet something in his head before the serum when the world had been hell bent on trying to grind him down and as a consequence he’d spent a lot of time angry without a reasonable outlet. James remembered how having sex had seemed to take Steve away from it all for a while, had allowed him to focus on something that had simply felt good. It had probably been much the same during the war as well, although they’d had far less opportunities for it then. Steve had carried such a heavy burden, both as a team leader and as someone people couldn’t help but look up to because of the image the war propagandists had built, but when it had been just the two of them, when they’d hastily pulled clothes off each other Steve had always seemed to let go of his worries for a while.

James knew all of this, but it didn’t mean he could interpret it accurately. He didn’t doubt whether Steve had cared about him, of course he had, but James didn’t know if the sex had been connected to it in any way in Steve’s mind, or if it had just been a way for him to relax. He would have liked to think it didn’t matter regardless, because he himself couldn’t really make heads or tails of his feelings from back then, but for Steve considerably less time had passed, mere months, and he probably did still feel much the same as he’d used to.

They’d have to deal with the discrepancy between the two of them, how James had moved much farther away from what he used to be compared to Steve, and he still had no answers for how they would manage it.

He finally got up, made a hearty breakfast for himself, and browsed the news as well as reports from his crew. Everything seemed to be relatively normal, nothing exciting in store for him. It looked like it would be a boring day until his phone chimed, and there was a message from Steve.

_ Could we meet back at the coffee shop this afternoon? _

* * *

James had asked Sofia to invite Steve to the back room again, and made sure to arrive after him. He wasn’t late, but he knew that for something like this Steve would be early, even though he generally wasn’t too stressed about punctuality. He was glad to find Steve drawing, or making an attempt at least; from the brief glimpse of the page he saw it was a bunch of doodles and quick studies, things Steve had always used to do if he hadn’t been able to focus on any single thing. James hadn’t remembered this tendency until now, but when he saw Steve’s page the memories of it came back, as well as the meaning. He suspected there would be a lot of things coming back the same way, if he spent more time with Steve.

Steve didn’t really greet him as he came in, he again stared at James as if he could hardly believe what his eyes showed him, and James was much in the same boat. It felt almost unreal to be in Steve’s presence, because he had believed, he had known Steve was dead, and now his brain had to get used to the idea of it not having been true at all. At least Steve didn’t look like he’d come over just to tell James it would be better if they didn’t have any contact at all from now on. It had been a very small fear all things considered, but it had been a real fear nonetheless, and James was glad to be able to put it away. Had Steve been intending to let him go, he would have come with a speech prepared instead of obviously being at a loss for words again, despite the fact he’d been the one to ask for a meeting.

This time instead of hovering at the door, James crossed the room and sat at the table opposite Steve. After all, he did want to make this work, even when it still terrified him, and for that he had to make an effort. He especially needed to do so because he was confident what he’d been told was true, that right now Steve was much more lost than he was. Steve flipped his sketchbook shut, took a sip of his coffee, and still seemed to struggle for words. James quickly considered where would be a good place to start a discussion, but he didn’t come to a decision before Steve finally spoke.

“Natasha said you go by James these days. Should I call you that too? It might take me some time to get used to it, since I’ve never used it at all, but I will if you want me to.”

There was a sudden well of warmth inside James; that the first thing Steve did was to try and take the new him into consideration, and it made him more hopeful that things might really work out. He took a moment to think about it, because on the one hand it was tempting to just make a clear divorce from his previous self, and yet on the other hand the previous time they’d met Steve had called him Bucky, and it had felt right inside his very core. In the end he decided to let Steve choose.

“You can keep calling me Bucky, I don’t mind. I mean, maybe it would make some things easier for you if you called me James, because I’m really not at all the same as I was when you knew me. It might help to keep the distinction clear.”

“I think I can comprehend you’ve changed, Bucky, even when calling you by the same name,” Steve said, just a hint of irritation in his voice and a very deliberate emphasis on the name.

“Sure, Steve,” James said, smiling, even though deep inside he couldn’t quite make himself believe that Steve knew or understood the depth of the changes in him. He knew realistically there would yet be things they’d need to negotiate through.

Steve’s glance at him told James Steve knew he was being placated, but he seemed to decide to let it go for now at least, a miracle unto itself. “Guess Bucky wouldn’t be that convincing a name considering your current line of work.”

There was something funny in Steve’s tone, and James couldn’t figure out what it was about. “Don’t side-eye me, my memory might be a bit of a sieve, but I remember you took some jobs with the mob on occasion, back before the war.”

“Yeah, and you should also remember that you were extremely critical of it, so maybe I should point out you’re something of a hypocrite here,” Steve said, but smiled as he did so. It was a joke, but rooted in truth, because Steve had indeed done odd jobs for the mob occasionally when things had been tough in the late thirties, and James had worried about it, because there always had been a chance of getting tangled in something more than they would have been ready to handle.

“Think of what the people who think they know Captain America would say if they heard that?” James said, because it was an amusing thought. Steve grimaced, and James smiled and shrugged, he was fairly sure Steve was thinking of how Captain America had been made to represent things Steve certainly didn’t believe in while he’d been gone.

“Not that it would be the only thing about Captain America that would shock them,” Steve said, which was also true, and James knew Steve was referring to their previous intimacy. He wasn’t at all ready to talk about it with Steve even when it had been occupying his thoughts recently, and he desperately searched for something to distract them from that line of conversation, when Steve himself changed the topic. “Anyway, I wasn’t being critical of what you do, just, it’s funny. I talked to Nat, and she said you wanted to make the city safer. It’s certainly a novel way to do it.”

James shrugged. “I know, but it kind of came to me when I was purging Hydra from the borough. They already had a lot of resources and contacts in place, so I realized I could actually make something good with them rather than just scrapping it all. I don’t know if what I’m doing is actually right, but I’m trying to help.”

“And you are succeeding, from what I’ve heard. That’s wonderful, I really think so. Nat told me something about what the two of you went through, and no one would have blamed you if you’d just taken off to some paradise island and lived the rest of your life on the lap of luxury.” Steve’s voice was warm, and James almost blushed at his words.

“Well, Brooklyn is still home,” he said, which was true, it was the reason he’d stayed in the first place.

“I’m glad you’ve found your way back, after everything.” Steve clearly thought back to the story Natalia had told him, his face grave, and James wanted to stave off the guilt that he could see trying to overwhelm Steve. He couldn’t help but wonder if Steve had managed to sleep at all since talking to Natalia, because there were shadows under his eyes.

“I told you, it wasn’t your fault,” he said very gently, and while Steve shook his head a bit, he at least didn’t protest with words. “And it’s in the past, I’ve long since decided to look forward.”

“Right,” Steve said, swallowing, clearly making an effort to pull himself away from the gloominess that had threatened to take over. He smiled then, lighting up as he thought of something. “I’m surprised, though, that you’re not wearing exclusively three-piece suits. I remember you liked those gangster films half because of the clothes.”

“I’m off the clock,” James said, smiling as well, because he couldn’t really deny it, he did remember liking the look.

They chatted a bit more that day, and it wasn’t anything like before everything, and they avoided a lot of topics, but it felt like a start at least.

* * *

As the weeks passed and the weather got gradually colder, James kept meeting with Steve regularly, usually at the coffee shop. A few times they met at the gym instead, late at night when it was technically closed, but the owner knew James, and furthermore he was a vet and had given Steve a free rein. They sparred lightly; it was exhilarating for James to not have to worry about hurting his partner, and it must have been the same for Steve. Steve had been looking into some modern hand-to-hand techniques, and was learning them in addition to what he’d picked up during the war. James, during his years as the Winter Soldier, had had a lot more comprehensive training, and for once it didn’t feel oppressive to acknowledge it, with Steve it was just teaching and exploring together. Not that Steve required much teaching, he had a good understanding of how his body moved, and could replicate a lot after just seeing it. Once in the middle of their sparring Steve did a move he’d clearly copied from Natalia, and it was so unexpected that James went down, and afterward he had to call uncle because he was laughing so hard. It was undoubtedly efficient, but since Steve was so much bigger than her, it looked almost ridiculous in comparison.

It was good to laugh, he’d realized after Steve had become a part of his life once more. Over the decades spent in Brooklyn he hadn’t really found too many causes to laugh or even to just lighten up. Only now he was starting to realize that he’d still been focused on a task, even though it was a task he’d given himself, and hence very different from the past. Now he was starting to remember what it was like to be carefree to some extent at least.

It was good to be with Steve, but there were still barriers between them, most of them kept up by James. He couldn’t quite allow himself to let Steve properly in, he kept withdrawing from discussions and sometimes even physically in space. He knew he was doing it, but he didn’t know how to stop, mostly because he couldn’t really convince himself it was a good thing to let Steve get so close to him once more even though he’d decided he wanted to properly reconnect. Steve was patient with it, he never mentioned it even though James was sure he had noticed.

During one of their early meetings, the first thing that came out of Steve’s mouth was, “I talked to Peggy.”

“About?” James asked, even though he was fairly sure of the topic, and the way Steve looked at him in exasperation confirmed it.

“She actually said you have a tendency to avoid dealing with your feelings, which is really clear.” 

James was gobsmacked by the fact that Steve had actually said so, because it skirted near the big mess of unspoken things between them, and Steve clearly realized it too, because he shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, she did say so, but it wasn’t what I meant to talk about.”

“It’s okay. Not like she hasn’t said it to me as well, in a much more direct manner and with good reason,” James admitted and Steve smiled at him in return.

“It just explained a lot. The first time I met her in DC after I left New York, I thought there was something funny about it, as if she was holding back something. I told myself I was imagining it, that it was just the effect of the time that had passed, but now I know what it was.”

“I asked her to not tell you. She wanted to let you know straight away, so don’t blame her for it.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. And I get where you were coming from,” Steve said, which was a bit of a relief at least, even when James noticed he didn’t say it was okay.

Most of that meeting was spent talking about inconsequential things, but at the end Steve asked, “Why’d you send me all those painting supplies? And don’t try to say it wasn’t you, the only other person who might have done such a thing is Tony, but he wouldn’t have known about the painting thing.”

James hadn’t even considered denying, but didn’t want to argue about it. “I don’t really know. I guess it was just because you didn’t have anything but a sketchbook with some pencils, and now you could really paint if you wanted to.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. It’s just hard to get started,” Steve said, a rare admission of struggling. “And by the way, I appreciate you took care of all the bugs in my apartment, but you could have just come and done it in the open.”

“I know,” James said, not apologizing but acknowledging it. “The next time I will, then.”

“The next time?”

“You think the alphabet agencies have given up trying to spy on you just because they were thwarted once?”

“Ugh. Guess you’re right, unfortunately. Maybe I should move to the Tower after all, I’d know it was only Tony’s AI keeping tabs.”

“You’ve been thinking of moving to Stark Tower?”

“Tony made apartments for all the Avengers. I meant it when I said he was the other person I knew who’d buy stuff just out of the blue and in such an extravagant manner. Natasha says it’s his way of dealing with his feelings, throwing money at things rather than admitting to people he likes them.”

James heard very clearly what Steve didn’t say; that he’d done much the same thing, and he wasn’t really wrong about it either.

James walked into the gym just when a bag ruptured from the force of Steve’s punch and spilled sand all over the place. He was about to make some kind of a smart remark about it, but held back when he noticed the tired line of Steve shoulders and the defeated way he rubbed at his face.

“Come on,” James said instead, crossing to the maintenance room, “the brooms and such are here. That’s happened to me before as well.”

They swept out the sand, and while they worked James kept an eye on Steve and based on what he saw decided it would be better to do something other than spar. When everything was neat and tidy he sat down on the floor and started doing some easy stretches, and after a moment Steve joined him. James was curious about what bothered Steve, but he didn’t know how to ask, it still felt like there was a possibility of it being too intimate somehow, that they might cross over some barrier that would change their relationship again.

Steve apparently didn’t have such scruples, because in the end he volunteered the reason for his distress, a clear sign of how much it bothered him, because it usually took a lot to get him to talk of such things. “I asked Tony and Bruce to look into it, and it seems like I’m not aging the way I should be. They don’t know right now if it’s that I practically don’t age at all, or if it’s just so slow they can’t detect it.”

“That’s a lot,” James said, feeling stupid when he didn’t have anything more profound to offer. He probably should have, considering it was his reality as well.

“I started thinking about it after I’d heard Nat’s story, and seen you. Obviously you haven’t aged as you should have, and she’s older than she looks, too. So I wondered if it was something they did in Russia or if it was in my serum too.”

“And now you know.”

“How do you deal with it?” Steve asked, voice showing a hint of desperation. “If I think of how many years I might have left it’s mind-boggling, I don’t —” Steve faltered and shook his head, falling quiet.

“I suppose, most of the time I don’t. I mean, I don’t think that far ahead. I keep busy with my life,” James said, feeling like the explanation probably wasn’t that helpful to Steve.

Steve collapsed down on his back, and stared up to the ceiling as if it could tell him the secrets of the universe. “Easier said than done, I guess, especially when I’m trying to fill my days.”

“Have you thought of what you want to do, moving forward?” James asked.

“Not really. Many people have a lot of opinions about it, all of them giving advice and most of it is just them seeking profit for themselves, even when they try to frame it as some kind of higher duty.”

“I’d say the only thing that matters is what you want to do,” James said gently.

Steve sighed. “That’s the problem, then.”

They fell into quiet, Steve lying on the floor, and James looking down at him. He partly wanted to reassure Steve, wanted to touch and ground him, but he also wasn’t ready for it at all, because it would require him to open up more. It was frustrating to continuously deal with the warring instincts inside him, and he knew Steve felt something like it too. He could tell there were times when Steve wanted to ask questions, or talk of things to do with the two of them, and James always steered the conversation away. Lately Steve had stopped trying, visibly biting his metaphorical tongue instead.

It wasn’t going to last, the calm between the two of them. They’d have to move forward, their relationship would have to shift one way or another, and James didn’t know which direction scared him more, to push for more intimacy or distancing himself from Steve once more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just one night can change everything.

James did hold his promise to do the next bug check while Steve was present in his apartment. He arrived after dark, and did a thorough circle around the area to make sure there weren’t agents of any persuasion or surveillance devices around. After he was sure the outside was clear, he climbed up at the back of the building where Steve had a small balcony. The blocking device from Stark that Carter had given him would have come in handy, but it had proved it’s experimental nature by overheating very dramatically a few weeks earlier.

Steve was sketching at the corner of his couch, or at least attempting to do so. He didn’t seem to be getting much done and was restlessly drumming his pencil against the sketchbook. He looked up when James opened the balcony door, and gave him an exasperated look when he held a finger to his lips. Steve remained quiet, though.

The first thing James did was to close all the curtains and blinds, and after that he set to combing through every inch of the apartment. There were the obvious places to check, but James knew that especially now that everyone who’d so far tried to set bugs up knew someone was removing them, he’d have to be extra careful. Not only did he look into every nook and cranny, he also kept an eye on possible changes in the walls and floors themselves. He checked whether a molding might have been removed and nailed back into place again, that sort of thing. In the end he found three listening devices, all of them the type he recognized as SHIELD’s, and he carefully crushed them before heading back to the living room.

Steve had resumed drawing while James was searching, but now he’d dropped the sketchbook and pencil on his lap and was leaning back, staring up to the ceiling. His jaw was clenched and his fingers curled into a fist, and as James watched he seemed to make a great effort to relax with no apparent success.

James was still hesitant to insert himself too much into Steve’s life, even though he knew it was all a pretense really, considering how much of his thoughts Steve occupied these days. It was just that the barriers he kept up between them, the lines he carefully didn’t cross, felt like safety; they meant he hadn’t yet committed himself to something that would turn out to be the wrong thing. Even now, the part of him that kept these barriers up was telling him the smart thing to do, one that would allow him to keep the life he’d spent so much time building unchanged, would be to say goodnight and leave.

He didn’t though, because apparently some instincts could last through countless mind wipes, and for him one of those was to try and make sure Steve was okay. Hence, instead of going, he approached Steve.

“What’s going on?”

Steve rolled his head to look at him, the frown between his brows deepening for a second before he made an effort to smooth it out. “It’s just, I don’t know. Nothing specific. Just can’t seem to focus on anything because of the noise in my head.”

James nodded, it was exactly as he’d suspected. He’d realized it when they were fairly young, that sometimes Steve just needed unwinding because everything was too much to deal with, and as they’d grown it had become obvious stress was one of the major triggers for overload. It had gotten worse after the serum, because Steve’s new senses took in a lot more information than he’d ever needed to process before, and he had never been good at letting go of anything, he kept going over things in his head more than was really necessary. James had always been better at letting go of irrelevant things, or even ones he couldn’t do anything about, and so he’d been better equipped to the change in his perception. That Steve was now suffering from the overload shouldn’t have come as a surprise; everything that had happened and the pressure he was constantly under meant it really had just been a matter of time.

Steve lifted his hand and dropped his wrist across his eyes, probably unconsciously trying to blot out the light, to reduce sensory feedback. “I just want to not think for a while.”

Steve clearly said it without thinking about the precise wording, but James froze where he stood, because he remembered Steve saying the same exact words many times before. Back then, decades ago now, they’d been a code of sorts; Steve asking for something neither of them had wanted to put in words because it had been too dangerous. Now that Steve spoke the words again, James couldn’t help but immediately think of what they had used to mean, even when he wasn’t sure Steve had intended to ask for the same thing at all.

Steve then noticed he’d frozen, he let his hand fall down and looked at James with a question already forming on his lips, but the words never made it out of his mouth. James saw the exact moment when Steve realized what he’d said, his eyes rounding and body going rigid. For almost a whole minute they just stared at each other, neither of them moving. James was rooted in place, he didn’t know what he wanted to happen, only that he’d be incapable of initiating anything.

When Steve finally moved he did it deliberately and slowly, as if he was waiting for James to bolt at any second. It probably wasn’t an unreasonable expectation considering James was sure he looked like a deer in headlights, but he also couldn’t, and if he was really honest with himself, didn’t want to move. He wanted to see where Steve would take this. Steve put the sketchbook and pencil on the table, got up, and slowly came to James, who noticed, probably for a thousandth time at least, the unusual gracefulness Steve had gained with the serum.

Steve came as close as he could without touching James, and he stopped there, just looking at him. James could see every detail of him, the little flecks of green in the blue of his irises, the minute freckle at the side of his nose.

“I know it was you who threw that knife, that night I went out,” Steve said, but left it there, not even seeming to want a confirmation, just telling James he already knew.

James realized then that this was as far as Steve would come, he wouldn’t take the last step. It had always been true, Steve might ask but not in so many words; he’d never been able to fully admit he needed something, so it had always been left to James, or more precisely Bucky to interpret and act accordingly. Steve might ask, but he would never take this, would not take the decisive action here. It was one of the few circumstances where he wouldn’t, and clearly it was still the same as ever. The final decision lay with James here. He could have stepped back and he knew Steve wouldn’t have objected, but if he did so it would shape the direction of their relationship. As would stepping in and touching Steve.

He suddenly realized he was standing at a crossroads, facing a choice he hadn’t seen coming early enough to avoid, and now he had to pick one way or another and deal with the consequences. He knew he probably should think forward, should consider what it would mean if he were to choose either way, but then again, he wondered if trying to weigh in the best he could would be any wiser than just letting his instincts guide him. After all, he wasn’t able to see all that might come, but he knew what he wanted right then.

James lifted his left hand, choosing it deliberately, and pressed it to the middle of Steve’s chest. Steve didn’t flinch at the contact with the metal at all, so James pressed a bit harder, and Steve yielded, letting James walk him backward a few steps until he was pressed against the wall. Had Steve shied away from the touch of the prosthetic James would have called it quits right then and there, because while he wasn’t exactly happy about the way he’d received it, it was a part of him now, and there would be no point in continuing down this path if Steve couldn’t handle it.

For Steve it clearly wasn’t a problem, his breathing had picked up and his eyes widened as he looked at James who pressed even closer, now right in Steve’s space, the metal hand still between them. The decision had already been made, they both knew what was about to happen, and so the pause felt like they were savoring the moment, the anticipation. Steve licked his lips, his tongue darting out between them, and then he relaxed against the wall, not enough to fall but became pliant under James’ hand. He tipped his chin up just a bit in invitation, and James couldn’t do anything but take it.

He pressed his lips over the tightening tendon, sucked a mark there, and Steve sighed and finally touched him, wrapped his arms around James, who grabbed a hold of Steve’s hips. James sucked another mark below the first one, nipped at the skin lightly and soothed it with his tongue, managing to get the first proper sound out of Steve, a sigh turned into a moan as he pressed his body against James.

Steve was half hard already, enough that James could feel it through both their jeans, and so was he. The intensity of his sudden desire surprised him, but perhaps it should have been obvious from the start that since he’d tried to not even think of his and Steve’s relationship for so long, now that they were here it was as if a flood had been let loose. He reached down to grab a hold of Steve’s thighs, and Steve realized what he wanted, because he adjusted his hold around James’ shoulders and hopped up to wrap his legs around James’ hips. James crowded him even closer against the wall, chasing after the friction, and he heard the back of Steve’s head hit the wall when he threw it back, groaning in appreciation. It was a heady feeling to have Steve in his arms again, but it was nowhere near enough, and James knew they wouldn’t get where he wanted here against the wall.

He planted a sucking kiss right under Steve’s ear, and warned him, “Hold on.”

Steve tightened his hold of James, who straightened and moved away from the wall, heading for Steve’s bedroom. For a moment there were overlapping sensations from both now and his memory, of lifting Steve up like this in their shabby apartment before the war, and now again, finally strong enough to do so just as easily with Steve having grown almost twice in size. He blinked and banished the memory for now, because he wanted to focus on what was happening, not to get overwhelmed by the past. It helped that Steve decided at that moment to latch onto the side of his throat, sucking and kissing it, and James went cross-eyed enough to have a rare loss of coordination, the consequence of which was that Steve got bumped against the door frame. He clearly didn’t mind it, laughing against James’ skin as he maneuvered them more carefully through the doorway and into the bedroom, where he unceremoniously dropped Steve on the bed.

He threw off his jacket, and pulled his shirt over his head as well. Steve blinked up at him, and only then James realized that his metal arm might again be something of a shock, even though the scarring around it had healed a lot since he’d escaped and was actually able to take care of himself, and hence it wasn’t nearly as prominent as it used to be. Steve kept true to his earlier form, and didn’t seem to focus on it, just looked at James, and clearly appreciated what he saw. He was busily undoing his jeans, and to move things along James grabbed a hold of the ends and pulled them off along with the adorable fuzzy socks Steve had been wearing.

James crouched down to undo his boots that were good for scaling across the roofs but inconvenient right now, while appreciating the sight of Steve, who’d paused his attempts to undress. He was now propped up on his elbows, high enough that he could see James and smile at him. His hair was mussed and pupils blown wide, a flush high up on his cheeks, and the marks on his throat that James had left there were still bright, even though they would undoubtedly disappear even before they were done here. His shirt had ridden up to his ribs, revealing his washboard abs as well as a white scar little to the side, a pattern something like an electricity burn. It had faded a lot, and James guessed it had probably been caused by the alien weapons. He wanted to ask about it, but filed it away for later. Steve hadn’t said anything about his arm, and he definitely should repay the favor and not derail them from where they were headed.

He grinned up at Steve, and it was actually easy. He felt more comfortable than he had with anyone in a long time, which was not a surprise really. He’d stopped thinking it strange that Steve still felt safe down at his very core despite the decades in between, despite how his ability to trust anyone had almost been stripped out of him. With Steve it was easy, here and now that he knew the apartment was secure and no one was listening he felt like he could let go a bit more than usual.

Steve grinned back, but it was more of a challenge, accentuated by him pushing down his boxer briefs that were already askew from when James had yanked his jeans off, and taking his cock in hand, stroking himself lazily. He was fully hard already, and when he gave James the obvious come hither look all he could do was undo his own jeans and hasten to get naked. Steve didn’t hide his interest in the proceedings at all, just bit his lip and kept playing with his dick.

“In the drawer,” Steve said, nodding toward the nightstand, and James took the tube of lube from there before walking on his knees up to Steve.

He let Steve take the lube from him, and focused instead on pushing his shirt up over his pecs. The flush glowing on Steve’s cheeks dappled down his chest in patterns darker and lighter, and his nipples were drawn tight. James leaned down for a taste, Steve’s cock brushing against his stomach, and Steve let out a strangled sigh at it, grabbing a hold of James’ hair. It stung, but the pain only lit the fire inside him again after the slight lull that had happened after they’d moved to the bedroom. James sucked Steve’s nipple hard enough to probably hurt before moving down and biting, sucking a mark over Steve’s ribs.

He rose to look at the result of his efforts, and Steve pulled him up then, reaching down to take his cock in lubed hand, slicking it up and stroking, making James’ right arm nearly buckle from under him with bliss. He reached out to touch Steve in turn, but got his hands gently pushed away by Steve who turned to his stomach, pushing up to his hands and knees.

Steve looked over his shoulder at James who’d frozen in place once more, his brain syrupy and slow with how good he’d been feeling, and so he only realized what Steve wanted when he spoke. “Like this, come on, Buck.”

James knee-walked to place, running a hand across Steve’s back as he went. Steve arched into the contact, his muscles shifting under skin. James hesitated for just a second behind Steve, his hands on Steve’s hips, carefully lining up.

“You know I can take it,” Steve said, now sounding impatient.

James recognized the mood Steve was in, there was an undercurrent of the stress he knew Steve had been in, and when he got to this point Steve didn’t take kindly to being treated like he was breakable, never had. It didn’t mean James wasn't going to be careful at first, but he did get to it without any more prompting from Steve.

He bit his lip to help with concentration as he slowly pushed in. It was a good thing he did so, otherwise he would have been too overcome with the feeling, and he wanted to keep an eye on Steve to make sure he was adjusting and that there were no signs of discomfort. He didn’t see any, not even when he’d pushed in all the way and was enveloped by Steve’s heat, warmer than any regular human being and so overwhelming. Steve was panting, and he’d dropped down to his elbows, but he was also undulating his hips, seeking more friction. James took the invitation and started to move, just a little at first, slowly back and forward. He was almost mesmerized by the play of color on Steve’s skin, the flush coming and going in waves, sweat starting to bead at the small of his back. James focused on the smooth slide of his cock inside Steve, easy and wonderful, familiar and yet new.

After a moment Steve pushed back up to his hands. “Bucky.” He twisted to look behind and James stilled, his hands resting lightly on Steve’s hips. “Would you get on with it? I’m not going to break. I’m pretty sure you can do better than during the war these days.”

The challenge was back in Steve’s voice, and James regarded him for a moment. “Well, you asked,” he said, and placed his metal hand in the middle of Steve’s back, pushing down relentlessly so that Steve couldn’t do anything but lie down on his stomach. James then let go of the restraints he’d kept on himself, and did what he’d really wanted to from the start.

Steve hissed a long sibilant yes when James fucked hard into him, pushing the air out of his lungs. James didn’t wait for him to recover, because he knew he didn’t need to, Steve could take everything he wanted to dish out, Steve wanted all of it, and James wasn’t going to disappoint either of them. He set a relentless pace, shifting his position a bit at every move until Steve suddenly howled and grabbed at the sheets hard enough that James heard something rip. He focused on keeping the angle then, drawing the sounds out of Steve, settling to a pace that worked for both of them.

It was unlike anything he remembered ever feeling before. Ever since he’d escaped from Hydra he’d always known he had to be careful with other people, but not here, not with Steve. Same as when they were sparring, here too they were equally matched, and James knew sex would never be nearly as good with anyone else, even just the physical side. Not to mention all the reasons it was good just because he was with Steve.

He didn’t know how long it took, all that mattered was chasing after the bliss. The sounds escaping from Steve’s throat got gradually breathier, higher in the register, and James relished in them, because they’d always had to try and be quiet before. Steve finally came, clenching around him and shaking, and James followed only a few strokes later.

He pulled out and flopped down next to Steve to gather his breath. When he’d marginally recovered, he looked to his side where he was greeted by a gloriously flushed and relaxed Steve, his hairline beaded with sweat and eyes drooping. After a few minutes James got up to find a towel from the bathroom, and he manhandled Steve enough to be able to pull away the dirtied top sheet and clean him up as well. Steve was nearly asleep by then, mumbling something incoherent at him, and James grinned, happy with the rush of endorphins.

He sat on the bed next to Steve until he had fallen fully asleep. He looked ridiculous, he’d never managed to shed his t-shirt, so the fabric was bundled up in his armpits, and when James ran a hand over his head, even in his sleep Steve pushed into the contact.

The sight of the bright metal against Steve’s golden hair made James pause. Up until now it had been so easy, perfect really, to be with Steve, but now he suddenly couldn’t stay, couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with any more closeness. He carefully pulled the covers over Steve and put out the lights before dressing and letting himself out, making sure that everything was locked and secure as he went.

He walked home slowly, his hands in his pockets, the cool night air chasing away the remaining heat. He knew everything had changed now, and also that Steve would be disappointed to find him gone in the morning, or whenever he woke up.

* * *

The next day James had a semi-formal lunch meeting with other important people in his business, which meant dressing to impress. Nothing much was decided, the point of the meeting was to confirm good relations more than anything. Of course, there was always a possibility of one party or another trying to stage a take-over the very next day, but James knew he was very safe from such things; his group was too powerful already. They didn’t take sides either, he’d made it very clear a long time ago. The others might squabble as much as they wanted between themselves, he would have no part in it unless they came into his territory, at which point they’d be sent packing. These days they tended to even believe it.

He was on the way back, reading business reports during the drive, when he got a message from Steve.  _ Can we see each other today? _ he asked, and James had to consider how to reply. There was no question of whether he was going to agree, he just needed a moment to decide the conditions. Finally he suggested the coffee shop, saying he’d be there in a quarter of an hour. It was a deliberate choice, one that took them back to a more impersonal setting. It felt safer now that he was still raw from the previous night, torn between how good and right it had felt and the way he wanted to shy away from the suggested intimacy. Steve’s reply took a while to come. James could see him typing, but he must have erased a lot, since in the end all he got was,  _ Okay. _

James of course knew this meeting wouldn’t be easy. He suspected that after last night they probably weren’t quite on the same page with Steve, and hence some awkwardness was bound to surface when they met. He didn’t regret what had happened, not exactly, but he did worry a bit that the consequences might be difficult to handle.

He made it to the coffee shop before Steve, as he’d guessed he would unless Steve ran, and so he had a few minutes to settle and push the worry to the back of his mind. He didn’t quite feel like sitting down, though. When Steve arrived, it was obvious he was struggling with something as well, because there was a deep furrow between his brows. He looked perfectly neat and put together again, a contrast to the previous night, and when James smiled at him in greeting the furrow eased away and was replaced with a small smile.

“Now you look more the gangster part,” Steve said, looking up and down at him, referring to the conversation they’d had the second time they’d met there at the coffee shop. James could tell Steve appreciated the form he cut in the suit, and felt almost like preening, an unusual experience for him these days. He knew he looked good, the suit was tailored to him after all. It was a necessity, because in his line of business it was a sign of power. Up until now he’d never even considered it just from an aesthetic point of view.

Steve took a step toward him, and while James didn’t move, his face must have done something, because the furrow returned and Steve paused before heading for the table instead. James had asked for coffee for them both, because he’d thought it would be good to have something to occupy their hands with if nothing else. Steve pulled one of the cups to him, and added a ridiculous amount of sugar and just a tiny bit of cream. James sat opposite him, taking the other cup. For a while, neither of them said anything.

Finally Steve sighed. “I just don’t know what you want from me, Buck. I thought after yesterday we were a step closer.”

James had thought that this was probably where Steve would land, that he would take last night as a sign that they were ready to move forward. Maybe it should have been, but he couldn’t, and he now had to explain it to Steve. Trouble was, he didn’t have the words for an explanation even to himself, let alone someone else.

“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea, considering everything.”

Steve stared at him, eyes round and surprised, before they hardened with the anger that had always been quick to rise. He pushed his half-drunk coffee away. “Well, here’s what I think. If you don’t want me anymore you should just come out and say it.”

For a moment they stared at each other, silent again, because while what Steve thought was not true, James didn’t know what to say to make him believe it, he didn’t know if he had anything to give to convince Steve, and as things stood, maybe it amounted to the same thing. Finally Steve shook his head, got up, and walked out without another word, leaving James sitting there alone and defeated.

He tried to tell himself it was okay, not like they hadn’t had rows before where one of them had stormed out, and they’d always been fine afterward, but it didn’t really help. It felt different this time, because it wasn’t a case of them both knowing where they stood, just angry at the course of things. This felt like a true misunderstanding, and more. James knew now for sure he’d hurt Steve by leaving the night before without a word, and he hadn’t even attempted to make it okay. Steve had understandably drawn his own conclusions, and now the mess that needed to be sorted out was an even bigger tangle. Worst part was that James was still all mixed up about it; part of him wanted to go after Steve, the rest of him suggested that maybe this was good, a clean break that would make things easier for both of them. The conflict inside him meant he was left sitting there at the coffee shop, brooding and unhappy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A parting, and a long winter.

James didn’t contact Steve after their parting at the coffee shop, because he figured it would be better to give him space. Based on what he remembered of Steve’s flare ups, James expected Steve to get back to him within a few days, a week at most, but two weeks passed without a word, and he didn’t know what it meant. He couldn’t help but suspect Steve had decided after all that it wouldn’t work between the two of them, even though the sensible part of him thought it unlikely. He firmly believed Steve would have told him, if that was the case. He was left wondering whether he should wait or try to contact Steve, and as the days passed the latter became more difficult to even contemplate.

During the third week Natalia messaged him, asking if something had gone wrong with Steve, but he ignored it and never got back to her, mostly because he didn’t know what he could say that wouldn’t leave both him and Steve completely bare. Of course, he knew she would read into the silence as well, but he didn’t much care about it now. A month passed, the fall progressed nicely, the city was recovering from the alien attack, and his business was booming. His life was following the same paths it had for years now, and yet he couldn’t be content with it, because there was the question of what was going on between him and Steve.

It had been five weeks since their talk when Steve turned up at the coffee shop while James happened to be there. It was an initially awkward moment, because clearly Steve hadn’t expected to see him, but after a few seconds of just staring he visibly squared his shoulders and asked if they could talk. It was then that a cold shiver went down James’ back, but he’d had enough experience in hiding his reactions that he believed he managed to appear, not nonchalant exactly, because they were both aware it was an important moment, but at least open to whatever Steve had come to say.

Sofia gave them the quiet backroom again, and brought tea without them ordering it, but for James it felt like the right thing, and Steve too seemed to calm down a bit as he made a glass for himself the way he liked it. During their meetings at Sofia’s Steve had acquired a taste for tea made the Russian way, he took it strong with lemon and jam, very sweet, but then again if he had a choice he also put an ungodly amount of sugar in his coffee, so James wasn’t surprised at all. Not that James judged him, considering he liked his sweets just as much. For a while they sipped the tea from their glasses. Steve seemed to be gathering his thoughts, and while James did feel a bit guilty for letting Steve take all the first steps, he believed the correct choice right now was to wait for what Steve had to say.

Finally Steve looked up to him, a bit sheepish. “I’d intended to come here first to figure out what I wanted to say and then call you,” he confessed.

“Sorry to have mixed up your plan,” James said, but Steve waved it away.

“It’s okay. I just, what I came to tell you is, I’m going to D.C.”

James was a bit confused, because from the way Steve had hesitated before blurting it out, he’d expected something bigger. “You go to D.C. all the time, you don’t need to tell me.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I meant that I’m going to live there, at least for some time. I already found myself an apartment.”

Now James was taken back, because this was nothing he’d expected. “Does this mean you’re going to be working for SHIELD?” It was the only reason he could think of, and if so, he definitely should have tried harder over the time they’d spent together. He couldn’t help but wonder if someone had noticed Steve appear somehow vulnerable over the past month, and taken advantage of it.

“No,” Steve said. “Although I’m sure Nick will take it as a sign I’m coming around to him. Maybe he’ll back off a bit because of it.”

“Or he’ll ramp up the recruitment talks.” James was, despite everything, relieved. As he’d gotten reacquainted with Steve, he’d become all the more convinced SHIELD wasn’t the right place for him, and while he couldn’t yet understand why this change had come, at least the reason for the move hadn’t been what he’d feared. “So why D.C.?”

“There are some things I’m going to need to figure out, and I think it might be better if I was somewhere else. I don’t want to completely disconnect from people I know, so D.C. it is.”

It made sense, when it came to the choice of the place, but there was still the reason for leaving, which was the bigger question. Steve seemed to get it as well, because he continued without waiting for James to question him further.

“I think I’ve been reaching back too much, trying to find things as they used to be, and it’s not working,” Steve paused, but then seemed to realize exactly the thought that had come to James’ mind, something he’d been half expecting already before. The resignation had barely time to form in his mind before Steve hastened to explain. “I don’t mean you, I mean myself. You see, I came here with the war still in my head and everything was strange. I left for some time, but it didn’t much help, and after I came back I’ve been chasing the person I used to be ever since, but I’m still lost.”

“Do you know why?” James asked, letting only his curiosity come through even though his feelings were a lot more complicated.

Steve sighed and rubbed at his temples, as if battling with a headache. “I guess, even though living was often hard back then, many things were simple, especially when it came to me. I knew where I stood even when I didn’t always like it, but now things aren’t so clear. I’ll have to figure out who I am now, what bits are the same, what has changed, and how to live with it all.”

“I hope you will in a satisfactory way,” James said, meaning it even when the words sounded bland in his head. Steve still seemed to be able to tell he was being sincere, because he smiled for the first time that day.

They fell silent again, finished their tea, and when they were done there was nothing to do but to say goodbyes. It was incredibly awkward, and Steve stuffed his hands in his pockets, as if to keep himself from reaching for James. They didn’t say anything about seeing each other or calling, nothing about keeping in touch. James was fairly sure Steve didn’t mean for this to be a permanent goodbye any more than he did, but it still left him feeling untethered because there was no knowing when or where they would reconnect.

* * *

The fall felt endless to James. When the snow finally came, he was already bored with the cold, and was completely ready for spring to arrive. It hadn’t been a conscious thing, but a part of him had decided that something was going to happen in the spring, things were going to be better then, and so he waited even though the rational part of his brain, very large these days, scoffed at it as magical thinking.

The rational part knew very well that things felt slow because he’d heard nothing personal of Steve. There was of course all kinds of content about him if one cared to look for it, but none of it was terribly interesting to James, as far as the substance was concerned. He was more interested in the frequency of news, because the regularity meant Steve hadn’t taken up a job with SHIELD. If he’d had, there would have been gaps in his sightings, not to mention someone probably would have papped him going to the Triskelion.

Mostly James tried to just live his life the way he had for years now. Everything was going well, remarkably so in fact, and James was annoyed he couldn’t appreciate it. Part of him wanted to be angry at Steve for it, which he considered the most ridiculous part of the whole mess; to be angry for what exactly, that he was alive? Of course James wasn’t angry, he was truly and boundlessly glad for it, glad that Steve’s life hadn’t been cut short after all and that he now had a chance to continue it, even when it required getting used to a whole new world. James was already used to feelings being weird and irrational sometimes, and so he just let the urge to be angry fall off his back and continued with his life.

He knew there were people that had noticed the change in him. Most of them worked for him, and even though he was in fairly familiar terms with many of them, they still seemed to consider this beyond the line of their familiarity, and so none of them said anything. He noticed them giving him some odd looks occasionally, if he’d said something careless, or if there was something about Steve in the media.

Natalia might have been an exception, she certainly didn’t have any scruples when it came to pointing out his flaws to him, but their relationship had gone back to normal again, and she appeared to very deliberately avoid mentioning Steve, as if daring James to take the matter up first. It was probably childish, but James was determined not to do so, he could be at least as patient as she was when he had a reason for it.

The sole exception was Sofia, she didn’t shy away from talking about Steve at all. She’d grown fond of him, not least because she was old enough to have lived through some of the things that Steve remembered so clearly, even when she was some fifteen years younger than Steve and James. Steve had also spoken some Russian with her, from what little he’d learned during the war, and she’d appreciated him making the effort. Most importantly, he liked her tea and cakes. As a result, she tended to ask James every time he visited if Steve was going to come back soon, and every time he replied he didn’t know, she huffed at him as if he was the biggest disappointment in her life. He stuck to his regular visits, though, because she also always had something especially tasty for him, so it balanced things out.

While James didn’t talk about it to other people, he did occasionally, as fall faded and winter deepened, think of what he wanted from his life from now on. Before Steve had returned, he’d been content with what he had even though he hadn’t been what one might call happy, and in large part it had been because he’d been very sure it was the best life had to offer to him. Peggy Carter and Natalia had regularly told him it was foolish to think so, happiness might come in a form he’d least expect it, and that he was just shutting himself away from it. Now with Steve back, he couldn’t help but wonder if one of the what ifs from their past could finally become a reality. In that case the women would have a reason to be very smug indeed for being right about his very unexpected happiness.

The questions were, whether Steve would want those fancies to come true, something that his leaving had made more uncertain, and whether James could allow himself to reach for the possible happiness. He did know, even though he’d never confessed it to anyone, and probably never would, that the reason why he didn’t want to believe the world could contain happiness for him was because he didn’t think he deserved it, and as far as he was concerned, nothing had happened that would make the answer any more certain than before.

* * *

They were in the middle of a cold snap, and James hoped it would be the last one of the winter since it was late February already. The winter had passed as slowly as he’d feared early on, and he was by now definitely done with it, feeling restless. It wasn’t really a good thing for him to be, restless people were prone to be stupid, and he desperately didn’t want to be stupid when it came to his business. By now it mostly ran on its own, but there were occasional incidents that needed a deft hand to deal with them. He upped his exercise routine once more, being careful to schedule workouts before important meetings where patience was needed, and he did fairly well in general, it just felt that time was crawling along.

On that particular day he had nothing scheduled, it was a Sunday after all. He’d spent a couple of hours in his basement gym first thing in the morning, and was just contemplating on breakfast when his phone chimed with a Google alert he had on Steve. Usually he just checked the headlines and left it at that, but this time he stared at his phone for several seconds before clicking the link.

Steve had had his hair cut, was the first thing James registered. Even with the alerts, he’d avoided all photos of Steve, and so he didn’t know how recent the change was. He wondered if it was just Steve gradually slipping into a more modern look, or if it was a deliberate parting from the past on his quest of finding out who he was nowadays. In addition to the shorter hair Steve looked well enough, and he was wearing jeans, boots, and a dark blue pea coat over a knit sweater, the outfit suitable for the winter weather.

The reason why the photos had been taken and James hadn’t managed to not look as was his usual procedure was the man photographed walking next to Steve. They were engrossed in discussion and looked very comfortable together. The headline said Captain America had made a new friend, but the reader was clearly meant to interpret the meaning of friend as more than that. Apparently they’d had brunch together, and had walked away from the diner through a park.

Rather than looking at any of the speculation the Internet was probably rife with, James turned to his own methods. What he’d gleaned from Hydra when he’d escaped was obviously hopelessly outdated, but the fact that they kept sending teams to Brooklyn every once in a while helped him stay outfitted even as technological leaps came faster and faster. What came in handy now were facial recognition and search programs, as well as access to a few government databases he definitely shouldn’t have had, but that he’d grabbed from one of the SHIELD agents that had been spying on Steve. Apparently no one had noticed the misuse yet, and he did try to minimize the risk by not usually doing anything with the access credentials.

Not that this time was in any way critically important, he immediately admitted to himself, but it didn’t mean he’d let go. He knew he was basically doing a high-powered equivalent of Facebook stalking a person that might be dating your ex, there was no getting around it.

The quality of the photos wasn’t that great, but it was good enough to pull a match that James was confident enough of. A Sam Wilson, formerly of Air Force, now working for the Veterans Affairs. Service record, as far as he could access it, was impeccable, and what he was blocked from suggested participation in some kind of an experimental program. Digging a bit more gained him a grainy photo of a man flying with wings and a jetpack. Nothing said the man was Wilson specifically, but James was confident it was at least connected.

He closed the databases and settled back, thinking. From what he’d learned, this Wilson seemed like the kind of person who might be good for Steve, someone who’d seen active combat, who’d been entrusted with secrets, and who’d also got out and was doing well by all accounts. The friendship was probably good news, but James still didn’t like it. He tried his best to step on the feeling, because it was all about his baser instincts.

James spent the rest of the day carefully avoiding any media, but the next day his curiosity won, and over the following several days he kept up with the development of the story. Unsurprisingly there was a boatload of speculation about Steve’s sexuality, and all the various reactions to it. Some industrious reporter managed to even ask Steve about it, and he navigated through the questions fairly well, declining to comment on anything personal, but making it very clear he was against all kinds of discrimination, mentioning DADT, marriage equality, and the rights of transgender people. This caught both ire and celebration, and didn’t lessen the speculation at all, but there were also voices imploring others to leave Steve in peace, because no one should be forced to disclose such personal information. The pleas seemed to work on some people, though not all, there always were those who just wanted to know, even though some of them dressed their curiosity in some nobler guise. The fact that the press seemed to tire of the topic after a while was probably a combination of the natural cycle and people at SHIELD flexing their muscles.

None of it left James any wiser, because nothing Steve had said had been surprising to him, and there was no definitive information on whether Steve and Sam Wilson were friends or something else in addition. Days passed, there was still no word, no message, and James started to truly wonder if Steve moving forward really did mean leaving him behind. After all, they had never even kissed during their night of passion, and remembering it made James unsure if he’d just interpreted their last talk wrong, if Steve had meant for it to be a permanent goodbye after all. The thought left a hollow feeling inside him, but he knew it was mostly his own fault. He knew if he’d just opened up a bit more to Steve, there never would have been radio silence like this.

* * *

Natalia called him in early March, saying she was back from a mission and wanted to meet at Sofia’s. When James arrived, it was still early in the morning, but she was already there, determinedly working her way through a large plate of syrniki with jam and sour cream. He asked for a mug of coffee and some cake, having already eaten a hearty breakfast, and for once Sofia didn’t ask about Steve. She probably thought Natalia would do a good enough job of it.

For a while they just ate in quiet, James observing Natalia’s unusually sharp focus. Finally he couldn’t help but say, “So it was that kind of a mission, huh?”

She stabbed one of the pancakes with far more force than necessary, and shoved it in her mouth. “It was a shit show.”

“Maybe you should consider retirement. I’m pretty sure with your investment savvy you’ve made enough to never have to work another day,” James said, and had a hard time concealing his laughter when she glared at him.

“Steve said the same thing, that’s why I came here to have my break instead. I don’t want lecturing.”

“Wait, now he’s telling you to leave SHIELD? That’s different from him just dodging recruitment.” James was genuinely surprised, something she probably had banked on, based on the smile creeping on her face.

“Well, he’s definitely still dodging recruitment, but he did finally decide he doesn’t want to take SHIELD up on their offer. Fury still thinks he’ll change his mind, even when I’ve told him it’s wishful thinking.”

She went back to her breakfast, and James stared at her for several minutes until it was clear she wouldn’t just volunteer any information, and so he decided to swallow his pride and ask. “How is Steve doing?”

“Good, I’d say. He’s been getting more of a grasp of who he wants to be and what he wants to do. I think meeting Sam helped with that, actually. Steve gained some context from him that he needed, not to mention it was good for him to make a new friend who had nothing to do with SHIELD at all.”

“Well, that’s good. Great.” James knew his voice was steady enough, but his face was clearly not, because Natalia’s smile turned wry as she looked at him.

“They’re just friends,” she said after watching him mentally squirm for a moment, and at first James didn’t know what to do with the information, especially when she added, “and Steve wouldn’t go for it anyway.”

James gained his speaking faculties after spluttering for a second. “You just asked him?”

“I talked with him about the first part, the second I judged myself. But I didn’t do it for you, I did it for me, obviously. I like Sam.”

There was laughter in her voice when she said the last part, it came out even a bit boisterous, but James knew she meant it, and he also knew how big a deal it was. After all, it was the first time after defecting that she really seemed to consider a relationship, and it was a major step.

“Guess you’re doing well enough, after all,” James said, but added, because he wanted it to be absolutely clear, “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand, dismissing the comment even though James knew she appreciated hearing it. “But I had another reason to come here.”

“Which is?”

“To kick you on your metaphorical butt, and maybe even literal, depending on how dense you’re going to pretend you are.”

It wasn’t a terribly promising start, but then again Natalia often was the one who tended to kick him into gear when he needed it, and this probably was one of those times. “About what?”

“I just came to tell you things don’t have to be so complicated. Just be honest with yourself about what you want, and go get it.”

He could have pretended not to know what she was talking about, but she already had told him she absolutely would not give him any leeway now, and so he decided to voice one of his concerns. “I’m not sure it’ll work with me just going to get it, since it won’t be just my decision.”

“I know,” she said and took his hand, squeezing it. “But it seems to me that so far Steve has been the one to take the steps forward, and with that the risk of rejection. If you really want it, it’s worth the risk.”

James sat there, looking at her for a moment, but he already knew she was right. He knew what he wanted, and it definitely was worth the risk. With that, he’d decided what he was going to do, and he didn’t even have to tell her, she knew just from looking at him. She squeezed his hand one more time and returned to her breakfast, now eating at a more sedate pace.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James goes to D.C.

For James the first step of going to Steve meant putting his business in order, and as he was listing things he needed to do, he realized it was the first time ever since he broke free from Hydra that he’d be away from the city for a prolonged time. In fact, he didn’t know how long it would take; he didn’t know what Steve’s life was like these days, nor did he have a concrete idea of what Steve would want to do going forward. James had decided early on that after he left, he wouldn’t be coming back to New York whenever some little problem happened. Now that he’d decided to go to Steve he’d also decided to give him his full attention. It was the only way he knew to really convince Steve that he was serious after spending all the time after Steve woke up keeping a distance between them, even after he’d decided to make contact. He’d found it hard to open up, no matter that a significant part of him had wanted it even then. Now, after some reflection, he felt like he was finally ready.

All the legitimate businesses would keep running without his input since he wasn’t a critical part of day to day operations, and for the rest he chose leaders from his crew that he believed could handle the responsibility. He also delineated the kind of scenarios he should be informed of immediately, and said that with everything else they should just make decisions by themselves. He knew there was always a possibility of an attempt of a coup once it was known he was away, and while he knew most of his crew would stay loyal to him, just the fighting would do damage. He didn’t consider it too big a risk, because the reputation of the Winter Soldier carried far and wide, not to mention he’d made his capabilities perfectly clear over the past decades. All in all, it was definitely a risk worth taking, because he knew he’d regret it forever if he didn’t go and try to fix things with Steve, no matter what the result.

In the end it was nearing the end of March when he was finally ready to go, and every day that passed was excruciating, because he couldn’t help but imagine that something would happen in the meantime that would render his attempt futile. He didn’t really ever imagine the specifics of what it would be, it was a formless but terribly tangible fear.

When he left, he decided to take his truck, because he’d suddenly remembered that they’d used to talk of seeing the country together when they were young. The plans had obviously never been acted upon, but the spring was advancing day by day, and maybe, if Steve also wanted, they could now take a trip somewhere. It was probably overly eager of him, considering so far they’d barely managed to spend a few hours at a time together, so days and days just the two of them in a car would be a lot to get used to, but now that the idea was stuck in his head, it was impossible to let go.

He was roughly stamping down on his nerves every minute during the trip toward D.C., focusing on driving with the kind of single-mindedness he’d learned as the Soldier. With the mindset in place he noticed the time passing, but it didn’t matter as much as usual, and when he arrived in the vicinity of D.C. and roused himself a bit he realized he was both thirsty and hungry. He’d set out late at night, because he’d wanted to avoid the busier times on the road, and so there weren’t that many options for where to get food, but after he stopped for a moment to consult Google, he found his way to an all night diner. He had a hearty meal of mostly breakfast foods, and as he ate he considered his next step. 

Thing was, he didn’t actually know where to find Steve beyond that he was in the right city. They hadn’t been in contact since Steve left, and James kind of wanted the first time they talked again to be in person. He could of course ask Natalia for an address, but that meant subjecting himself to her merciless teasing, and so he chose his other option, Peggy Carter. She’d recently moved to a care home; grudgingly, but she’d still gone, and it had been some time since James had last seen her. She would probably be happy to see him, and would hopefully point him in the right direction toward Steve. She would also definitely tease him, but for all that it would be embarrassing, she didn’t know him as well as Natalia did, and probably wouldn’t know how to hit quite as close to home.

He had to wait for some hours before it was a civilized visiting time, and on the way he stopped to buy a bouquet of flowers to take with him. Even though he didn’t consider them friends exactly with Carter, they were still close just by virtue of her being one of the few who’d known who he was since the eighties, and so he liked to pay the courtesy of a visit every once in a while, even though he otherwise didn’t stay in touch.

He knew she’d had the early symptoms of dementia already, which were the reason she’d finally agreed to move away from her home. He didn’t know how far the disease had progressed, but when he was shown to her apartment after the nurse had called ahead, she was bright-eyed and alert, sat comfortably in her little living room among photographs of her life and the people she cared about, including one of Steve taken after he’d been found, James noted.

“This is an unexpected honor,” she said after he’d put the flowers in water according to her instructions and sat down next to her.

“I came to find Steve,” he said, deciding it was better to not beat around the bushes.

“For?” she asked, her face inscrutable. James suddenly felt like he was being interrogated by a parent of someone he was about to take on a date, and wasn’t that a strange association for so many reasons.

“I just want to try to make things work between us, and see where we end up. Back in New York I didn’t really let myself, I was keeping a distance between us. I’m ready to stop doing that now.”

“Well, thank God for that. I was getting tired of his moping,” she said, smiling at him now and looking much younger because of it.

James relaxed a fraction. It seemed she was happy about his choice, and it made him more confident not only that he was doing the right thing, but that Steve would be happy about it as well. He was about to say something along those lines, when there was a knock on the door, and Carter called for the person to enter. James immediately recognized the voice coming from the door before he could see them entering, and he suddenly felt like a deer in the headlights.

“Hey, Peggy, I hope it’s okay for me to pop in. I was told you had a visitor.” Steve froze in the doorway when he saw them, opening and closing his mouth as if searching for words. He’d also brought flowers, a bright bouquet of tulips in different shades of red. Finally he said, sounding still hesitant, “I can come back later, if you want.”

From the corner of his eye James could see Carter looking at him, one eyebrow raised in a way he remembered seeing during the war already. He understood the meaning of the gesture,  _ What are you going to do about it? _ And she was right, this was definitely his call to make, his first step in trying to convince Steve that he wanted to try properly this time.

“No, I came to see you actually,” James said, rising to his feet. Steve paused where he was already about to withdraw from the room. “But I wanted to surprise you, so I came here to ask where to find you.”

The furrow on Steve’s brow eased, and he took a step into the room again. “I would have thought you’d ask Natasha.”

James sighed. “I could have, but she would have been annoying about it.”

Steve finally smiled, fully at ease now. “That’s true, although I suspect Peggy can do her best at that as well. It’s good to see you, Buck.”

Steve sounded very sincere, and James let himself feel a bit more hopeful about all this. Steve left the box he’d brought on a table before he went to greet Carter, who, besides being obviously happy to see him, also resembled a cat that had got to the cream as she looked at the two of them. James figured Steve was probably right, she had the capability to be just as annoying as Natalia would have been, and the pure change of them happening here at the same time made it all the more likely he would be mercilessly teased for a long time over this.

“What did you bring me?” Carter asked Steve after they’d exchanged greetings, eyeing the box.

“It’s a fruitcake from that English bakery,” Steve said, and she grinned.

“Well, it’s a good thing you always bring enough for a whole platoon, it should be enough for tea with both of you. Will you make the tea, please, Steve?”

Steve nodded and got up, and James found a vase for the tulips Steve had brought and put them on display for her.

“Steve has finally learned to make tea in a satisfactory manner,” she commented later when they all had their cups and cake.

It was a little bit unnerving for James, with Steve appearing both hopeful and wary, and Carter watching them like a hawk, but surprisingly pleasant too. He was reminded of the times during the war when the three of them had been handling paperwork together, his presence technically not necessary since he hadn’t been an officer, but he’d usually been there because he’d wanted to help, or at least he’d told himself so. Now he could admit to himself at least that his actions had often been motivated by jealousy, because he’d recognized the potential between Steve and Carter, and while he couldn’t have offered anything like the life she could have to Steve back then, he hadn’t been keen on letting Steve go either.

It was different now; all of them were different, and had strangely lived through a different amounts of years. As it was, Carter had come through the best out of them, and while Steve was still clearly looking for his footing, he had a chance to make a good life for himself. As for James, he had the black period in the middle, but he’d overcome it, and now he was ready to really live in a way he hadn’t allowed himself up until now.

After the tea was finished, James made an excuse of needing to make a phone call to give Steve and Carter a moment just by themselves. He told Steve he’d wait for him outside, hoping he would believe James didn’t mean to disappear on him again. In actual fact he didn’t have a call to make, although he did exchange some messages with Maria, who told him everything was fine, and then he climbed to sit at the back of his truck to wait for Steve. It wasn’t exactly warm yet, but not too cold either, the sun was out, and he was comfortable enough.

Not that he had to wait for long, because Steve came out a mere quarter of an hour after him, and James could see the relief when Steve spotted him. It hurt to know he’d so far inspired so little trust in himself, but it was entirely his own fault, and he knew he could do better. He just had to hope it would be enough, and that he hadn’t yet done irreparable damage to their relationship.

Steve stopped in front of him, and as James hopped off the back of the truck he asked, gesturing toward the nearby park, “Do you want to walk for a bit?”

James readily agreed, because he wanted to get at least some idea of where they were as soon as possible, but he didn’t think a parking lot was a great environment for the talk. The park was tiny, but a bit nicer at least, and there was no one around since it was the middle of a work day. They paused by the tiny pond, and as they’d said nothing else up until then, James decided he should just get to the main point.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved in New York. I was pushing you away and probably sending mixed messages, and I don’t want to do that anymore. I came here to try and repair things between us.”

Steve just stared at him for a moment, a million expressions flickering across his face faster than James could interpret them. Finally, he landed somewhere softer, happier than he’d so far been, but there was a hint of determination in it too.

“I’m going to hug you now,” Steve said, and proceeded to do just that.

James hung on just as tight as Steve did, tipping his head against Steve’s, who’d buried his face against his neck and probably would have been offended if James had pointed out he was definitely sniffling. Since his own eyes were very misty as well, James didn’t bother, just leaned into Steve.

It was the first time engaging in this kind of closeness for them since the war. They’d had that one night of sex but it had been different, the meaning had been different. James found himself melting into the contact, because in truth he hadn’t really been hugged at all like this in decades.

“I really missed you,” Steve said, still clinging to him.

“I did too. And I’m sorry I made it harder for both of us.”

Steve pulled back enough to look at James, but didn’t let go. His face was blotchy and his nose red, because apparently the serum hadn’t done anything about him being an ugly crier. It then occurred to James he’d never seen Steve cry during the war. He’d often been angry or appalled by the horrors they’d encountered, but he’d never cried, probably because he’d felt the need to show an example, to be unflappable under pressure. It was probably a good thing he could let go enough to cry now.

“It’s fine, I get that what happened to you made it harder to trust people,” Steve said, and James shook his head.

“I wouldn’t call it fine when I knew it was hurting you.”

“Okay, how about, don’t do it again, and we go from here?” Steve suggested, and James was impressed by the common sense in it, because he was well aware that before now Steve’s instinct would have been to argue about the point further.

“I’ll do my best,” James said, feeling like he wanted to be absolutely honest, and Steve appeared to understand.

“Good enough.” Steve smiled, sniffled again, and laughed a bit at himself. “What have you been up to?”

“Same old. It felt like a long winter. And you?”

“Feels like a lot and yet not that much when I tally it. Decided I wasn’t going to join SHIELD. Got a bit more practice in drawing. I go to the VA meetings occasionally, Sam got me into it.”

“Feeling any more solid now, here?”

Steve smiled. “I think so, yeah. I’d say I’m starting to know who I am.”

They finally separated, and walked again, slowly around the pond, once, twice. During the third circle, Steve asked, “What did you want to do now?”

James understood it wasn’t a question about the immediate future, but more in general. “I told you, I just want to try and make things work between us.”

“Nothing more specific?” Steve asked, and when James paused in his tracks he lit up. “There is! Let’s hear it.”

James hesitated still, even with the obvious openness from Steve. “It’s probably presumptuous,” he hedged.

“Noted. Shoot.”

James shook his head in exasperation, because clearly Steve still wouldn’t let something go when he’d made his mind up about it. “Fine, I want to go to see the Grand Canyon like we talked about when we were young.”

Steve’s grin softened into a smile. “You remember that? Okay, let’s do it.”

“Just like that?” James was taken aback.

Steve shrugged. “Sure, why not. I mean, I get why you’d worry, but I think we’re working through the problem, and honestly it might be good for us to sort out everything somewhere people won’t be looking over our shoulders.”

“You mean Natalia.”

“Nat, yeah, or Peggy. Or Sam, for that matter. Pain in my ass, all of them.” Steve sounded very fond when he said it. “Anyway, I don’t have any strenuous commitments, so I just need a few days to let people know and pack my stuff, and we can go.”

“Yeah?” James decided to let himself believe it could work.

“Yeah. It’s a good idea, I’d love to see the Grand Canyon, now that we can.”

* * *

Three days later they finally set off toward the west. The days in between had been spent packing and buying the things they’d need, and saying goodbyes to Steve’s friends, who in some cases were also James’ friends. They had dinner one night with Natalia and Sam Wilson. She clearly hadn’t yet let him know she was interested, she was biding time instead, but it was fairly obvious Wilson was also interested in her, which in turn helped to quell James’ jealousy about his and Steve’s closeness.

It was stupid to be jealous; Steve having other friends than him didn’t mean he was any less important. It didn’t change the fact that he felt he kind of was, because it was also clear Wilson had managed to help Steve settle into his new life more than James ever had, and he couldn’t help but think of it as a failure on his part. He tried to hide the jealousy the best he could, but he knew he was more reserved than Wilson’s friendly manner warranted. Natalia definitely noticed it and was laughing at him, and Steve maybe noticed too, but he thankfully didn’t say anything about it.

They’d decided to take James’ truck, and had bought a mattress specifically made for it and sleeping bags so that they’d be able to sleep on the bed. On the way there they intended to sleep in motels, but they figured it would be warm enough to camp at the canyon comfortably despite the early season. There probably wouldn’t be too many people around either, if they chose the campsite carefully.

When he’d set out toward D.C., James hadn’t really considered that many practical matters, just that he wanted to see Steve, and so he hadn’t had any sleeping arrangements sorted out. It would have been easy to go to a hotel, but on the first day Steve had just shrugged and told him there was enough space in his apartment, and that had been it. In the end they’d even slept next to each other in Steve’s bed, since it was large enough, and on the other hand Steve’s couch hadn’t been made for a big man to sleep comfortably on. James couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a goal for Steve, considering technically there wasn’t a proper space for someone else to sleep in the apartment anywhere but in the bed with Steve.

James had expected it to be awkward, but in the end it had been surprisingly easy. They’d done nothing but sleep, and whenever they were talking to each other, it still felt like there were a lot of topics they were tip-toeing around, but the key thing was that they both wanted to make things work, and so taking the first step with the sleeping arrangements had happened almost naturally.

On the first morning Steve had been up first, heading out for a run. James had declined accompanying him, but he’d risen soon after Steve had left, and he’d had breakfast ready by the time Steve had returned. From that moment things had been easier, and when they finally set out, James no longer feared that being just by themselves for hours on end would end up badly like he had when he’d first had the idea of taking the trip.

They’d decided to follow a route through Virginia, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, northern Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. They weren’t in any kind of a hurry, so while they did drive significant distances every day, they also took regular breaks, and didn’t push to make it to their destination as fast as possible. They stopped to eat whenever they were hungry or saw a place that looked interesting, and when the days turned toward evening they stopped at roadside motels.

James did most of the driving. Steve sometimes took a turn, but James enjoyed it while Steve was happy to sit next to him and doodle into his sketchbook, look up facts about the places they passed on his phone, or find music on the radio, although when it came to it James had a lot more opinions than Steve did.

They also talked; they got to know each other better every day, they discussed their lives and interests that were new, and sometimes reminisced. James deliberately pushed through the barriers that were almost a habit for him to keep up these days. At the end of the first day of driving when they stopped near Knoxville for the night he thought he’d laughed more than he had in the whole previous decade.

They got one room for the two of them without even discussing it. James went by himself to pay for it, because while they didn’t stress too much about it, they still wanted to at least try to keep under the radar, and there was always a chance someone would recognize Steve. There was a diner just across the road where they had dinner and decided to visit it for breakfast as well, and turned in fairly early. There were two twin beds in the room, and again they didn’t have to talk about it, they just showed them together for the night. So far, even when sleeping together in Steve’s bed, they hadn’t really touched each other, nor did they that night, but the closeness felt good.

When James woke up in the morning Steve was already awake, same as usual, but this time he hadn’t gotten up. Instead he was looking at James’ left arm that was resting above covers, contemplating something. For a moment, James considered just letting it go, but it was a topic they’d have to talk about at one point, and there was no reason why not right then.

“I can punch through a brick wall now,” James said, thinking it would be better to get to the bottom of things right from the start.

Steve looked at him, the almost habitual furrow between his brows. “Doesn’t it hurt if you do that? Because I thought you can feel stuff with it.”

“I can. I mean, not like I do with my right hand, but something. And punching through a wall isn’t exactly fun, so I only do it when I need to.”

“And do you often need to?”

“Not recently, no.” James grinned, because Steve too had sounded just a bit amused there, but then Steve’s eyes grew serious again.

“And does it hurt in general? I saw the scarring, that night.” Steve reached out and laid his palm over James’ metal shoulder for a moment.

“No, it’s okay. It’s been holding up pretty well since Howard fixed a connection in the shoulder joint, I just need to do a regular cleaning.”

“Howard worked on it?” Steve was startled.

“Soon after I escaped from Hydra. I took a hit to the shoulder when I was clearing one of their bases, and something broke. He already knew about me back then, and was happy enough to have a look at it, even when we never were the best of friends during the war.”

“I’m guessing Tony doesn’t know about you?”

“No, he doesn’t. I asked everyone to keep quiet about me as much as possible. It was only Carter, Howard, and Dugan who knew, and later Fury. Natalia found out after you’d been found. I did sometimes consider what I’d do if something happened to the arm again, but so far I’ve been fine.”

Steve grinned. “I’m sure Tony would be happy to help, although he’d also offer to make you a new and better one. He’s a good man, and I think you’d get along with him better than you did with Howard, if you got to know him.”

“How come?” James asked, curious. He’d always been a little uncomfortable around Howard, because he’d had something of a proprietary attitude toward Steve, although he clearly had truly cared about Steve as well, not to mention he’d provided the Commandos with their weapons. James understood the younger Stark had some hang ups when it came to Steve, but maybe they wouldn’t annoy him so much.

“Just a hunch. Howard always had an eye toward profit, but Tony is more about the curiosity of how far he can push, what he can do. I think you’d find a common ground there, with your interest in the outlandish science.”

“Maybe,” James allowed. He wasn’t too keen on expanding his circles, but it was likely to happen now with him getting closer to Steve. “Can I ask you something as well?”

“No need for that between us, Buck, just ask.”

“Okay, sure. That scar on your stomach, did you get it from the aliens? The pattern is kind of weird.”

“Yeah, one of them got me with their energy weapon, it was no big deal.”

“I remember what kind of wounds you considered to be similarly insignificant during the war, so that doesn’t exactly reassure me. I’m assuming you at least walked after taking the hit?”

“Something like that,” Steve said and didn’t even seem regretful.

They talked a bit more, planning their route for the day before they got up, but it was still fairly early that they were back on the road.

They spent the next night near Little Rock, and for once James woke up first in the morning. He idly wondered if Steve had had a hard time falling asleep for some reason, but it was more to distract himself from the obvious. This time they had a room with a double bed, and he was lying on his back nicely on his own side, but Steve had crowded close. He was on his stomach, face nearly pressed to James’ shoulder and arm thrown across his waist.

James didn’t move, he just lay there waiting for Steve to wake up, while also kind of hoping it would take a while, because he was enjoying the closeness. It was the kind of physical contact he hadn’t really experienced over the last decades, because even when he’d had sex with someone he never had stayed over night or even cuddled with them. It was like the hug on their first day in D.C., something James hadn’t known to miss until it happened.

When Steve finally woke up, he didn’t seem to be fazed at all by their proximity, he just rolled to his side to look at James. As he did so, his palm slid to rest on James’ stomach, but he didn’t move it, and James suddenly felt braver, felt like he should acknowledge it, and so he laid a hand over Steve’s. It happened to be the left hand, but Steve didn’t mind, just smiled at him again. They stayed there for a moment more until nature called.

That morning James jerked off in the shower. He knew it was the only way he’d manage to stay comfortable in his skin throughout the day, and he didn’t feel guilty at all when during it he pictured the last time they’d had sex with Steve. Besides, he was fairly sure Steve had done the same thing when he took a shower earlier.

Up until then James had deliberately tried to put his shirt on as soon as possible after a shower to hide his left shoulder, but considering their discussion the previous day, he decided he could be braver and invite Steve a bit more into his everyday reality. It was, after all, part of the purpose of the trip. He put on jeans, but instead of a shirt he pulled out the tube of rich moisturizer that helped to keep the scarring supple and not irritated.

He gestured at Steve with it. “Can you help me with the back of my shoulder? I can reach it myself, but it’s annoying.”

Steve looked up from his phone where he’d been either texting to his friends or planning their route for the day, and he obviously knew why James asked and was delighted about it. He took the moisturizer from James, and sat behind his left side on the bed.

“Anything I need to be careful with?” Steve asked, hesitating after he’d squeezed a bit of moisturizer on his hand.

“Maybe a bit near the metal, it’s a bit sensitive. Nothing there will hurt me, though, unless you deliberately try.”

Steve huffed at the last part and set to work. He was pleasantly thorough with it, rubbing the moisturizer in and kneading at the knots in muscles as well. When he was done James’ shoulder felt better than he remembered it being since he’d received the prosthetic.

James thanked Steve when he was done, but he didn’t move from where he was sitting, and so James stayed as well, looking at him over his shoulder. “What’s up?”

Steve shook his head as if to shake off some of his thoughts before looking James in the eyes. “Sorry, sometimes it just gets me. I’m glad you’re not in pain, though.”

“I’m glad you’ve taken to it so easily,” James confessed even though he hadn’t really meant to bring it up. “I know it’s new, and the associations with it aren’t exactly great, but it’s a part of me, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Steve looked down to his lap, his smile turning self-deprecating. “I did kind of have a private breakdown moment, after that night back in New York.”

“Understandable, though. I had a freak-out during the war after you’d turned up twice as big as you’d used to be, too.”

Steve grinned at him. “Fair.” He wrapped his arms around James’ waist and pressed a cheek on his shoulder for a brief hug. “I’m glad to be here with you, Buck.”

James laid his hands over Steve’s. “Yeah, I’m too.”

Their next stop was in Amarillo, and as they were getting ready to bed they decided they’d at least attempt to make it all the way to Grand Canyon the next day. It was definitely doable, although it would take the whole day even if everything went fine, and despite the fact they had no schedule, they were both starting to feel the urge to get there. James had a feeling they were both holding back in their process of reconnecting at least somewhat, waiting to get to their destination.

In the morning he woke up warm, almost too much so, because Steve was plastered right against his back, an arm hooked around his waist to hold him. For a moment, James just basked in the comfort of it, but then he became conscious of two things; namely that he was hard, and that Steve was too. Before he could decide if he should do something about it, Steve woke up and rolled on his back. James turned to look at him, and there was no awkwardness in their good mornings. And why should there be? It was a normal reaction when bodies came close together, especially with their enhanced metabolism, but it wasn’t the right time to act on it. At least not together, and so James took care of his during the shower once more, and assumed Steve did as well after him.

They settled in for the drive, with James again behind the wheel. It was a flat terrain they were passing through, endless fields with tall white windmills here and there. They were very used to the plains by now. It was kind of boring, but the mood in the car was such that neither of them seemed to mind, Steve had found a music channel on the radio and taken out his sketchbook, but he wasn’t drawing, he was just staring outside. They weren’t talking, and James was content to let the miles pass, humming along some of the songs that he recognized.

Occasionally he glanced at Steve from the corner of his eye. Steve’s eyelids were drooping, he was awake but not very alert, just looking toward the horizon, radiating calm. It was new, James didn’t really remember this kind of attitude from Steve, he didn’t remember having ever seen him just do nothing and not fidget. He’d always been able to focus on his drawing or reading, but his thoughts had always seemed to be running too fast for him to just calmly dwell in them. Now he appeared comfortable, whatever he was occupied with.

Ever since he’d arrived in D.C., ever since he’d started to allow Steve really in, James had also started to see more of Steve and know him better, and he’d come to understand that Steve had changed from the man he’d known during the war. It was perhaps stupid to not have expected it, but the time Steve had lived through without James had been so much shorter that he’d been sure there couldn’t have been that much change, but something in Steve had shifted, perhaps during his fight with the Red Skull, perhaps in the ice, perhaps with the jarring change of time period. James didn’t know what it was, but it was undeniably there, visible at these kinds of moments.

James had thought that it was mostly the way he’d changed, the scars left by his past that they’d have to get over, but now he knew it was both of them that were different. He kind of wanted to berate himself for not realizing it sooner; he really should have considering Steve had in fact told him when he’d left New York. It was in fact an encouraging thought when he looked into it, the idea that both of them were different made it easier for him to believe they could make this work.

He reached across the center console and took Steve’s hand in his. Steve glanced at him and smiled, squeezing his hand before looking forward again. James too focused forward, the road stretching straight ahead, the driving easy even one-handed.

He hadn’t really known what their relationship had been all about back in their previous life together, other than very important, because they’d never properly talked about it, but it didn’t really matter anymore. What mattered was that they could make it into exactly what they wanted now, and that Steve’s hand was warm in his.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Grand Canyon.

When the day turned toward evening and they were within range of making it all the way to their destination before midnight, they had to make a decision on whether to find a final motel on the road or not. Steve checked the weather forecast, and since it was warm, unseasonably so, and no rain in sight, they decided there was no reason not to go right to their destination. They stopped for a hearty dinner and groceries in the final town, and drove on.

It was dark by the time they arrived at the camping ground they’d selected. It was open all year round, but understandably so early in April there weren’t likely to be that many people in general, and as luck would have it, on this particular night there was no one else around. They found a campsite where they could park the truck in the shadow of some large trees that would prevent the sun from shining right at them in the morning, and got out.

They didn’t bother setting up the stove that a warm meal would have required since they were both still satisfied from the earlier dinner, and just had a snack before getting everything ready for the night. Out of a habit that he couldn’t shake James made a circle around the campgrounds while Steve made the truck bed ready for sleeping and otherwise arranged their things. When James returned he saw Steve was already cozy in the sleeping bag, and didn’t delay changing into more comfortable clothes for the night. Once he’d climbed up he saw Steve had zipped their sleeping bags together, and since he’d already spent a few minutes there, it was nice and warm when James slipped in.

They’d woken up in each other’s arms for the last couple of nights, but now they were much closer to each other from the start. It was good, though, it felt right and easy to gather Steve to him and fall asleep curled around each other.

James woke up when it was still dark to Steve shifting in his arms, and this time he was immediately aware he was hard, because his dick was nestled against Steve’s ass. Steve moving against him didn’t help with the matter at all. He must have made a fairly pitiful groan, because he then found out Steve was awake from his barely stifled laughter.

James was momentarily annoyed, but it was dispelled when Steve laid a hand on his hip, urging him to move again. The arousal that had been slowly gathering inside his abdomen welled, and he definitely didn’t want to ignore it like he had before.

“This what you want?” he asked, nosing at Steve’s neck and sliding his hand down from where it had been resting on Steve’s stomach.

Steve gasped when James pressed down on his cock, hard and heavy already. This had echoes of familiarity, because when it had been cold they’d often used to double up in the sleeping bag during the war, and sometimes they’d woken up hard and aroused from the closeness. James had then too pushed his hand inside Steve’s pants and taken a hold of him, jerking him off fast and hard as he was pressed against Steve’s ass at the same time. Back then they’d had to keep quiet, but now there was no one around to hear them except maybe squirrels. James still wasn’t especially vocal, quiet was almost second nature to him these days, but he relished in the fact that Steve seemed to have decided that since he now could make noise without a fear of getting arrested, he would let go of his inhibitions.

James breathed in Steve’s scent, nosing at his neck as he sped up the pace of his hand on Steve’s cock and rutted against his ass. Steve’s hand on his hip was gripping hard, but it was wonderful, grounding him, helping him stay in the now rather than fall into the memories.

It didn’t take long at all before Steve came with a strangled cry, and it was mostly the headiness of the feeling of accomplishment, that he still knew exactly how to pleasure Steve, that tipped James over the edge after him.

They lay there panting, basking in the afterglow until Steve shifted, letting out a displeased noise.

“Ugh, I’m sticky. Let’s get up.”

James laughed and held on to him for a moment more, which caused Steve to affectionately squeeze his hip again, but he was also definitely sticky, so they got up and cleaned themselves. There was only cold water readily available, and the morning was fairly chilly since the sun wasn’t up yet, but it was nothing they weren’t used to. In fact, it was much easier than during the war, because now they at least didn’t have to worry about people figuring out why they needed to clean up, not to mention modern clothes were much warmer without being bulky, which they both appreciated.

They brewed coffee and took out some seed cake, nuts, and apples for breakfast, but instead of eating at the campsite they took everything with them and headed toward the observation area. The sun was rising as they walked, and when they arrived they went as close to the canyon rim as they could, sat down on the insulated mat they’d brought with them for the purpose, and just stared while drinking their morning coffees.

It was going to be a beautiful day; there were a few wisps of cloud high up in the sky, but otherwise it was deep blue. The horizon where the sun was rising from was bright and almost colorless, warm white with hints of yellow around the sun. James didn’t spend a lot of time watching the sky, though, because the canyon itself arrested his attention so completely. He’d known it was large, but now sitting at the rim it was still vaster than he’d expected, wider and deeper, the shapes of it more complex. As he watched a raven flew up from somewhere below them, and it circled for a moment before making a beeline for something they couldn’t see.

“I didn’t anticipate these colors,” Steve said, voice hushed.

James glanced at him and saw he was sitting stock still, eyes wide and mouth slack, struck dumb by the sight in front of them. James grinned at it, feeling warm all over. The trip so far had gone so much better than he’d expected; he was now very sure they would make things work with Steve, but even if it had been quiet and awkward until now, seeing Steve like this would still have been worth it. James slipped his hand into Steve’s and turned toward the canyon again.

Steve was right about the colors. James had expected earthy colors, browns and grays, and there were those, but so much more, too. The browns were more vibrant than he’d expected, and they tinted toward reds and oranges, even gold here and there. Out farther the sides of the canyon looked almost purple or blue. It was so much grander and more beautiful than James had expected, worthy of those fancies of travel from so long ago. Since he’d dreamed those dreams in New York decades ago, he’d been to so many places, but this was the best trip so far, because they’d taken it just because they wanted, for no other purpose, and it was with Steve. He could ask for nothing more.

“Look,” Steve suddenly said, pointing down.

It only took a moment for James to see what had caught Steve’s attention. It was a bird, but much larger than the raven they’d seen earlier, soaring up along the warm air currents, making it look easy as it barely moved its large wings.

“It’s a California Condor,” Steve said. “Largest bird in North America, and very rare.”

James followed the bird as it rose higher before turning toward the other edge of the canyon. “How do you know that, anyway? You never were that interested in fauna.”

“Saw it in a nature documentary,” Steve said, and shrugged when James glanced at him. “They’re soothing.”

James decided not to ask more about it for now, although he filed the information away. When he thought about it, it made sense that watching documentaries like that would feel calming to Steve, they had nothing to do with the realities of his life nor did they contain anything unexpectedly disturbing, and hence they provided some time completely separated from his worries.

They ate breakfast mostly in silence. The quiet at the canyon was filling James with peace, and he hoped Steve felt the same. They could hear no traffic, or any other sounds of people. There was an occasional cry of a bird of prey above them and the wind in the trees, but they didn’t really register as noise, just sounds belonging to the place.

The sun was gaining height, and warming them now enough that James undid the zipper of his coat. He’d looked at the forecast as they walked from the campsite, and it promised to be a beautiful day. He looked forward to every second.

They had the observation site to themselves for the whole day, something James bet was extremely unlikely even this early in the year, but they made good use of it. They went back to the campsite to eat, to shed some clothes as the day warmed up, and to get more water, but came back again, James with a book and Steve with his art supplies. In the end, James didn’t manage to read that much, mostly he just watched the scenery and Steve.

Steve had his regular sketchbook and pencils, but he’d also brought another book, one with heavier paper, and a set of travel watercolors. He’d tried them out during the drive, learning how they behaved since watercolors were a medium he’d never really used before, but he seemed to be enjoying them, especially now trying to capture all the different hues in the rocks around them. As he painted and drew Steve was clearly happy, immersed in the work enough that James was fairly sure he didn’t notice anything else.

James himself was warmed by more than just the sun. He’d been content for a long time, albeit less so over the preceding winter, and now during this trip he’d noticed that perhaps happiness was indeed budding inside him, maybe he was getting there. He knew this trip wouldn’t change everything about their lives, their difficult past and everything stemming from it would still be there, but it felt like a goal reached, something they’d talked of doing and that they’d now accomplished. From here, it felt easier to go forward again, together as James now believed they would.

They napped in the afternoon, although James wasn’t that sleepy. He enjoyed lying down next to Steve, though, and the mattress at the back of the truck was actually very comfortable, so he was happy to stay there and read his book, with Steve’s breaths gusting against his throat and an arm thrown across his stomach. Later they cooked and ate a hearty camp dinner, and returned to the observation point when darkness was already falling. James had brought a flashlight for the return trip, a necessary precaution, especially since the place they liked to sit at was right at the edge and the path leading there was rocky. He really didn’t want another tumble down a ravine, once in a lifetime was plenty.

It was peaceful, though, sitting there shoulder to shoulder. Now they looked up rather than down, because as light faded the canyon became a black expanse, but above them stars blinked into view, brightening as the sun moved further toward the other side of the Earth and its glow on the horizon dimmed. It was nothing like the night sky in the city that James was used to, but it was familiar nonetheless. During the war he’d liked to look up to the sky, just thinking of the stars and what else might be up there to escape for a moment from the fears of war. Later, when he’d been a prisoner of Hydra in Siberia, he’d also looked up, not knowing why it had felt nostalgic, but feeling a momentary peace every time.

Now he was here with Steve, and he could just look up to the stars without having to try and block away some horror or pain. Over the years he’d learned the names of the constellations, and he now pointed them out to Steve, talked of how the bright area was the denser part of the Milky Way, that they were looking right toward the heart of their galaxy.

“On the plane,” Steve said, not looking away from the sky, and James was confused for a second before Steve continued, “Red Skull grabbed the Tesseract, and asked it for power. It didn’t do what he wanted, though. I don’t think so, anyway. It opened some kind of a portal, and I saw stars through it, kind of like up there,” Steve gestured toward the Milky Way, “but still brighter. Countless stars, and masses of clouds among them, illuminated in every color imaginable. Then there was a brighter burst of light, the portal was gone, and I was alone. It was scary, then, because I thought it would take me too, but awe-inspiring as well. This is just peaceful.”

James remained quiet, because there wasn’t really anything to say. He was grateful that Steve felt comfortable enough to tell him this, he knew Steve generally didn’t talk of what had happened to him on the plane. He felt he understood; Steve didn’t need him to say anything, the same way he didn’t need Steve to say something when he revealed bits and pieces of his past as the Soldier. It was enough to let each other know.

  
  


They looked up to the stars in silence for a long time. It was getting chilly again, but it didn’t matter, they’d dressed for it, and James was happy to just be there. In the end, Steve was the one to break the silence.

“Bucky,” he said, but nothing else even when James turned to look at him. Steve just continued to stare at him, smile barely visible in the darkness.

Finally James had to ask, “What?”

Steve laughed a little, shaking his head, and then he leaned in and kissed James, gently but determinedly, raising a hand behind his neck. James was surprised only for a split second before he got on with the program, a contented sigh passing through him because finally they were kissing, finally it was the right moment for it.

For James kissing in many ways was even more intimate than sex, at least with Steve. He’d kissed others without it meaning anything; as part of sex or the girls back before the war, but with Steve it had always been different. Everything had always been more significant with Steve, still was, and hence he’d been more careful of his actions, and he believed it had been the same for Steve.

This was their first kiss since they’d reconnected in this century, but they hadn’t really kissed that often during their previous lives either, and James was fairly sure they’d been drunk every time they had. Sex could be explained away as something they did to let out steam or just helping each other out, but kissing meant more, it had felt dangerously close to changing their relationship in a way they’d always shied away from, and so kisses had been rare.

All of that history was at the background of the kiss they shared now, and the way Steve very determinedly moved into his space told James he wanted it to mean things, it wasn’t just a kiss, it was an affirmation of what they meant to each other and that he was ready to take a step forward. James was too, and he tried to put it into the kiss for Steve to understand.

When they pulled apart James felt lightheaded, almost drunk in a way alcohol hadn’t managed to make him feel in decades. Steve was still only a breath away, still holding onto him, his breathing just a bit unsteady. In the dim light that the stars cast James could see he was smiling again.

“Let’s take this back to the campsite,” James suggested. “I’d rather not have that hole next to us if we go ahead with this.”

Steve’s hold of him tightened as if on instinct, James was fairly sure he flashed for a moment back to the ravine and the train, and immediately regretted his words. He’d dealt with what had happened, but for Steve that memory was much closer, much fresher, and hence much more painful even when James was here with him. Before he could think of something to say for distraction, Steve seemed to shake himself out of it and pressed another quick kiss on James’ lips and smiled.

“Let’s go then. It’ll be much more comfortable there, too.”

They walked back hand in hand, and got distracted halfway there, ending up leaned against a tree and kissing. Now that they’d started James didn’t want to stop, and Steve was completely on board with it, crowding into his space. It was only when James hissed with annoyance after getting poked in the back by a branch, and Steve found it entirely too funny, did he grab Steve’s hand again and pull him toward their campsite. Steve was still laughing, but followed him easily enough.

It was colder again with the sun down, and so they were forced to focus a bit more on getting into bed rather than on each other for a moment, but no sooner were they cozy in their sleeping bags still zipped together that Steve rolled right on top of James and kissed him again. James was happy to lie there being kissed, and even happier that he had both his hands free to touch Steve. 

Steve propped his elbows on both sides of James’ head, letting his weight lean more on James who encouraged it by pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around Steve’s back. Steve tilted his head a bit and the kiss deepened, now less frantic than those they’d shared during the walk had been. This one was slow and exploring, as if Steve was getting to know exactly what he liked, and James opened up to it, allowed him in, and in turn he made a note of what drew little hitches of breath and small moans out of Steve.

They’d never kissed much before, and they’d definitely never kissed like this, in that it wasn’t a precursor of sex, even though James was sure they would be getting there fairly soon, but right now they were kissing for the sake of it, kissing because it felt good and because they wanted to be close to each other, because it meant they had finally let go of the caution that had colored so much of their lives up until now. Time or their environment didn’t matter, all they cared about was each other, and James pulled Steve even closer to him, as close as they could get like this.

He ran his hands down Steve’s broad back to where his waist narrowed, slipped them under the hem of his shirt, and moved them up again seeking skin. Steve flinched away from his left hand, but laughed at it right after, letting his head rest on the pillow next to James’.

“Cold,” he said, and tried to squirm away when James probably predictably pressed his whole metal palm against his skin.

James held onto him tightly, laughing as Steve tried to get away from the cold until he relaxed again, getting used to the sensation, and the metal warming up.

“I can already see you’re going to be a menace in the winter,” Steve said, propping himself up on his elbows again to look at James.

“You probably shouldn’t give me too many ideas then.” James grinned when Steve shook his head in exasperation.

Steve kissed him again, and this time it was full of intent, full of toe-curling heat, and James pulled him closer again, grabbing his leg and pulling it over his so that Steve was straddling him. Steve shifted his hips, and their hard cocks pressed together, drawing a moan from Steve and making James see stars, gasping for breath. He took hold of Steve’s hips, controlling the movement, seeking friction, and it was a heady feeling, with Steve above him, still leaning on his elbows, panting and moaning at the sensation, no longer kissing because neither of them had air for it. Instead they were just breathing the same air, mouths brushing together.

“Hold up,” Steve said, clearly struggling to speak.

James stilled, although he still kept his hands on Steve’s hips. “What do you want?”

“Want you to fuck me, I’ve gone without the whole winter,” Steve said, his voice husky with want.

James couldn’t help but lean up to kiss him, absolutely on board with giving Steve whatever he wanted. “How do you want it? We’re kind of lacking space here,” he said, trying to figure out how they’d be comfortable without getting exposed to the cold. “You could turn on your side,” James suggested, but Steve shook his head.

“I want to look at you,” he said, and added, nodding toward the corner of the bed, “The lube is in that bag.”

Steve rolled off him and James turned to rifle through the bag, a little surprised even when he probably shouldn’t have been that Steve had prepared for something like this. When he’d found the lube Steve climbed back to straddle his thighs again, opening the zipper of the sleeping bags enough that he could sit up. He’d removed everything under waist, and as he grabbed the lube, James tugged his cock for a hello.

“You’re eager,” he said, even when pointing it was unnecessary, not to mention hypocritical, considering his own cock was straining against his underwear. He ran his palms up Steve’s bare thighs. “You’re not going to get cold?”

“I’m anything but cold right now,” Steve said, leaning in to kiss James once more at the same time as he pulled his waistband down to take his cock out. James didn’t feel cold, mostly because Steve’s hands were very warm and there was no wind, but the waistband dug at him uncomfortably.

“Hang on, I need to —” 

James reached down to push his pants and underwear further down, and Steve gave him just enough space to do so, fussing with the lube at the same time, and once James had settled back down Steve reached down to slick his cock. James hissed because the lube was just a bit too cool, but the sensation was pleasant too, contrasted with Steve’s firm grasp and warm skin. Steve’s expression was determined, and James grinned, happiness suddenly flooding him.

“No chance of taking this slowly, is there?”

Steve grinned back at him, especially when he tugged a bit harder and James let out a shuddering breath. “Nope. Maybe next time we have an actual bed. I might even take my shirt off then.”

“Yeah, recently you have stuck to the half dressed state.” James rubbed at Steve’s thighs again, sliding his hands up to Steve’s hips when he moved closer.

“Yeah, well, the last time was definitely your fault.” 

Steve bit his lip as he guided James’ cock inside himself, moving slowly and focusing on taking it. James held still, enjoying the slow slide into Steve’s body, arrested by the bliss he could see on Steve’s face despite the deep shadows of the night as he took James in slowly and gradually.

Finally Steve was seated, and he stilled there, looking down at James, everything they still hadn’t said to each other even though it had been implied in his eyes, and all James could do was to sit up so he could wrap his arms around Steve. He wanted to be as close as he could get, he really was now that he was inside Steve, but he still needed more. Steve pulled him in before framing his face in his hands and kissing him again, deeply and thoroughly.

Steve started to move his hips then; first slowly, at the pace of his kisses, the movement small until James encouraged him with a hand at his waist, guiding him up and down. Steve pulled from the kiss and gasped as he shifted and James’ cock clearly hit him just right. Steve tipped his head back and braced his arms on James shoulders as he upped the pace, still encouraged by James’ hands on him.

James pressed his face against Steve’s throat and breathed him in, kissed him there and felt more than heard the moan he earned with it. The way he was seated meant he couldn’t really move his hips, and he didn’t want to lean back either, because he wanted to stay as close as he could. Instead he held onto Steve’s hip with his left hand, slid his right down to his thigh, feeling the strong muscles working, and helped Steve move into a pace that pulled him higher into bliss.

When James came it was almost a surprise, he felt Steve’s pulse racing against his lips and he tipped over, slumping into him. Steve stilled in his lap and held him through the aftershocks until he felt a bit steadier again, incandescently happy and fulfilled.

Steve shifted and it was then that James realized he was still hard and flushed, quivering with want, and James pulled Steve back down with him. He rolled them so he was on top, his cock falling free as he did so, but he barely noticed as he spread Steve’s thighs. Steve let out a breathy  _ oh _ when he realized what James was intending right before he bent down and took Steve’s cock in his mouth.

Steve’s hands flew to his hair as James pressed a bit deeper before coming back up and sucking. He was definitely out of practice; the last time he did this was with Steve, and even then they hadn’t done it that often, it had felt too intimate most of the time. Now it was precisely the reason why James wanted to do this, beyond the simple desire to make Steve feel as good as he had just now. 

He was fairly sure Steve did too, from the way he arched up toward James and came in a very short time, helped of course by the fact he’d clearly been nearly at the edge from before. It didn’t stop James from practically brimming with pride from the accomplishment.

He crawled up and flopped down next to Steve, waiting for him to come down, basking in the happiness. Steve curled toward him and finally seemed to be able to focus his eyes again after a few moments. He reached up to smooth James’ hair.

“I didn’t pull too hard?” he asked.

“I didn’t notice, so clearly no.” James grinned, and pushed himself up. He found a t-shirt that needed to be washed and cleaned them up a bit, then bullied Steve back into his pants, knowing he’d be much happier if he didn’t wake up later because he was cold.

They curled up in each other’s arms again, and James was asleep almost before he’d settled.

The sun was shining through the trees when James woke up to Steve leaning over him and poking at his side.

“Stop that, you’re so annoying,” James groaned, although he also pulled Steve down to a kiss, so his words probably didn’t have that much of an effect.

Steve pulled back again soon after, laughing at the pitiful whine James made. “Come run with me.”

James forced his eyes fully open, taking in the eager grin on Steve’s face. “What makes you think I run?”

“The fact that you packed running shoes. I’ve seen them.”

“Well, I definitely don’t run in the morning, and if you’re feeling so energetic, I can think of a few other things we could do.” The idea made the last dregs of sleep dissipate from James’ brain, and he reached toward Steve again, only for Steve to catch his hand and shake his head.

“I want to run with someone who can keep up with me.”

James groaned again, because he knew he’d lost the fight then and there. The idea was appealing, considering he never actually did get to run as fast as he could, because he had to avoid attention. He’d have to stick to it when they went back to the city, and Steve would have to run on his own, but here it was remote enough that they could let loose.

They did, and James didn’t even try to hide from Steve how much fun he was having. Steve was a bit faster than he was on a sprint, but over the longer distance there wasn’t much difference, and they kept easily pace with each other as they ran on the small paths and through the trees, keeping near the canyon rim for the better part of two hours. The only downside was the lack of actual showers or even warm water for after, but it was still worth it.

They spent most of the day much like the one before at the observation point enjoying the scenery, fresh air, and each other’s company. Steve was busy drawing and painting, and James sometimes read but mostly just watched him. There was one group of people that visited the spot in the afternoon, but they thankfully didn’t recognize Steve who was looking a lot more disheveled than usual since he hadn’t shaved in a few days.

“You should grow a beard,” James said. “I bet people would have a hard time recognizing you then, especially if you always shaved before appearances.”

“Oh sure, aliens are coming, please wait while I get rid of this beard,” Steve said, but added, “I might, I do like not getting gawked at.”

They hadn’t looked at the forecast for the day, and only realized a storm was coming when the wind picked up and they saw a mass of purplish gray clouds rising. As they looked at them, they saw the first flash of lightning and heard a crack of thunder soon after. They hurried back to the campsite, packed everything and covered the truck bed to prevent anything from getting wet, and they managed to finish just when the first drops fell.

The water soon came down so hard they couldn’t see anything through the windows except the occasional flashes of light. At least the wind wasn’t too bad, not so much that they worried, and they just decided to have a snack while waiting for the worst to pass.

When it looked like they were going to be there for a while, Steve asked, “What happens now?”

James knew Steve meant it in a larger sense than just the immediate decision, but he also guessed Steve had very deliberately placed the question so that he could pretend to understand just the immediate part. He didn’t want to pretend though, he’d made a promise to himself to be honest with Steve, and he intended to keep it.

“I’d like to see us make this work, and not shy away from our relationship like we used to. I want to try being with you for real.”

“Me too,” Steve said. “I do think we’ll manage. I’m definitely glad that’s different here, that we don’t have to hide it.” For a moment they just smiled at each other before Steve spoke again. “Your life is back in New York, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure we can work something out if you don’t want to live there,” James started, but Steve took his hand, silencing him with a look.

“I think I’m ready to come back now. I got what I needed from being away, and Brooklyn is home.”

“It is,” James agreed, holding on to Steve’s hand and letting himself drift into dreams of future. After a moment he broke the silence. “I’m happy, you know. For a long time, I thought I’d never get here.”

“Why not?” Steve asked, sounding very affronted on his behalf.

James hesitated, but decided that it was better to just tell Steve. “I didn’t think I deserved it, with my past. And it’s still hard, I’m sure there’ll be days when I won’t believe I do.”

Steve looked at him, eyes steady as if he was trying to see right into James’ soul. “Do you think I deserve to be happy?” he finally asked.

James thought he probably felt much like Steve had a moment before, because the question certainly felt like an offense. “Of course I do.”

Steve smiled. “There you go, then. I’m happy when you’re happy, so you definitely deserve it.”

“Pretty sure guilt won’t accept that logic,” James said, even though he was charmed by Steve’s absolute certainty.

“It should, because it’s great logic,” Steve declared, before growing serious. “And I get why it’s hard for you, I’ve had to deal with some of those kinds of thoughts for myself. It was something Sam suggested, to think of why the guilt is not logical, find a reason rather than an emotion to focus on and hang on to it. It might help dealing with it.”

“Has it helped you?” James knew broadly what Steve felt guilty for and sincerely hoped it was lessening.

“Somewhat. It’s better some days, harder on others, but I’m working on it. You’re helping me, and I hope I can help you.”

“You do. I don’t see what I’ve done to help you, though.”

“Sometimes it’s enough to just be there,” Steve said, and James smiled, because he knew it was the truth, and if it worked for Steve, who was he to protest.

Steve then pulled out his phone and checked the weather report. “Looks like the worst of the storm is passing, but it will rain for a while. I don’t think spending another night out here would be that much fun.

“Probably not. But I guess we got what we were looking for, didn’t we?”

“I’d say we did. And we can always come back, if we want to.”

James started the truck. “It should be safe enough to drive now, so no point lingering here, then. Find us somewhere to stay the night. Preferably near, I remember some talk of what we’d do when we got back to indoors.”

“Take a hot shower, for starters,” Steve quipped, yelping when James poked him on the thigh, but laughing with him as they started on their way.


	9. Chapter 9

James stepped into the studio in the corner of their apartment, and found Steve standing in front of a finished painting, staring at it so intently that he didn’t seem to notice he wasn’t alone anymore. The light in the room was fading, but James could still see the snowy mountains and the deep ravine, the sky a mass of clouds with sun bursting through at one corner. He moved carefully around the table Steve used for his supplies, and went for a hug, leaning his chin on Steve’s shoulder. Steve didn’t startle even though he seemed to only then realize James was there, he just leaned back into him.

“That’s unsettling,” James said, looking at the painting more closely. As far as he could tell, it was an accurate enough rendition, there were even the train tracks down below, so narrow from the distance of the perspective that they were easily overlooked.

Steve smiled, James could feel it where his temple was resting against Steve’s cheek. “Nat said it’s beautiful.”

“It is. There’s just all the rest of it in there too.”

“I know. That’s why I painted it.”

“Is that your new theme? Paintings that are beautiful on the surface but unsettling if you were there? Feels like some kind of bizarre art therapy.”

Steve shook with laughter, even when it didn’t come out loud. “Maybe I’ll ask Sam about that.”

“Did you tell Natalia where that’s from?”

“No. But I think she figured it out. She sent her love, by the way.”

“I’m assuming you’re paraphrasing, because I’m sure she wouldn’t use those actual words,” James said.

Steve turned his head to press a kiss on his temple before pulling out of the hug and starting to clean his brushes. “It’s the meaning that matters.”

“Why was she here, anyway? For SHIELD or the thing with the Avengers?”

“She’s actually taking a leave of absence from SHIELD, she came to tell me that.”

“No shit? And Fury let her?”

“I got the impression she told them it was let her or have her resign, and he’s not so stupid that he’d test her.”

“Well, good for her.”

Steve nodded, emphatic. “She said she’s here to help Sam arrange his apartment because he’s still kind of unpacking.”

“I’m sure they’ll do that and won’t get distracted at all.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mention that, because she would have just needled me about the boxes that stayed in the spare room for three weeks after I moved.”

It was true, and especially considering Steve had had fairly few personal possessions to be moved to start with, their slowness with unpacking had been pretty spectacular. 

Steve finished putting things away, and James tugged him toward the kitchen. “Come on, I’m hungry. I got us Chinese since you didn’t reply to my text about what you wanted.”

“I guess I was distracted. But Chinese sounds great.”

There were still times when James found it hard to believe that Steve was now living with him, and every time it hit there was a well of happiness inside him. He was slowly learning to deal with it, the idea of being generally happy. Of course there were fluctuations, and both he and Steve had occasional bad days, but most of the time their lives were good. They’d discussed practicalities during the return trip from the Grand Canyon, and they’d agreed that Steve would move in with James. After all, his place was safe and secure, he had more than enough space for the both of them, including up until then an unused room that was well lit and perfect for a studio.

Steve had taken up painting and art in general, he was even looking options to study although he hadn’t yet made a decision about it. He was also in contact with the rest of the Avengers and looking into what good they could do with the group, and how to best go forward with it. Steve still believed he had a duty to the people, and that he couldn’t do it as part of SHIELD and their black ops, or as part of military and the endless senseless wars. They were now working on the project mainly with Stark, although the fact that Natalia had taken a leave of absence from SHIELD suggested she was going to put some more time into it as well. Steve had also talked Wilson into joining them.

There hadn’t been any discussion of James joining, even though all the Avengers had by now met him. He liked the life he had, and he definitely didn’t need the attention and questions the publicity of being part of the group would bring. Undoubtedly, if there was another alien attack or something like it, he would be there right next to Steve, but until then, he was happy to put his energy to the good of their borough.

He occasionally entertained himself with the idea of the apoplexies people in SHIELD and other alphabet agencies had to be having at the idea of Captain America living with a known mobster, even when the mobster in question was generally judged to be a good influence for the city and hence left alone. He also knew that there were bound to be people that would figure out who he was because of Steve’s presence, and that they might have to deal with it at some point in time, but for now he didn’t worry about it too much. They’d cross that bridge when they got to it, same as most things in life had to be handled. All told, it was a good life they were settling into.

After dinner they took their drinks out to the balcony. James’ old chairs were still there, but they’d added a couch, because Steve had decided there was an unacceptable lack of outdoor furniture suitable for cuddling, and quite frankly, he hadn’t had to say anything else to convince James. Today James managed to commandeer the corner, so Steve ended up lying mostly on top of him, head resting on his chest. He was almost too warm for the June evening, but James didn’t care, because he’d spent so much time being cold that he was overdue some balancing.

“Have you thought of what you want to do on your birthday?” James asked, suddenly remembering it was coming in only a couple of weeks.

“Definitely not go to the thing Tony has at the Tower, that’s for sure,” Steve muttered.

“Okay,” James said, rubbing a hand up and down Steve’s back. “We can stay at home, or go somewhere else. You can see the fireworks over the river from here.”

“That sounds nice.”

Steve was sounding drowsy, which James didn’t wonder about, being well aware Steve hadn’t slept that well during the last few nights. He’d refused to elaborate on the reasons for it, just citing nightmares, but now that James had seen the painting that obviously hearkened back to the day they’d gone after Zola, he had a good idea what had kept Steve up. He hoped the fact that Steve had managed to put it onto a canvas would help at least a little, and the fact that he was now comfortably drowsy rather than strung high was a good indication toward it.

James was relieved Steve didn’t want to go to the Tower for the Fourth, but he figured some kind of acknowledgment of the birthday with friends would be nice. He might arrange a brunch at Sofia’s; she still adored Steve and would be happy to make him eat all the sweet breakfast foods she could come up with on the special day. He could ask at least Natalia and Wilson to come, and present going out for brunch as a spur of the moment thing to Steve on the day. After that they could retire back at home, and spend the day naked until it was time to watch the fireworks.

Satisfied with his plan, James hugged Steve tighter to him. Steve was still awake, if only barely, because he mumbled, “I’m really happy to be here with you, Buck.”

Steve had a habit of saying it every few days. It would come up at quiet and comfortable moments they spent together, had since their talk during the thunderstorm at the Grand Canyon. It was simple, but it actually worked; it helped James start to accept it was okay for him to be happy. It helped that it also meant Steve was happy.

Steve still called him Bucky, even though no one else did, and James wouldn’t have had it any other way. Natalia and Pepper Potts called him James, and the rest of the Avengers, Wilson included, had fallen into calling him Barnes, which was probably just as big a deal, but it didn’t bother him. He still thought of himself as James inside his head, and probably would keep doing so from now on, because it had been the name he’d fixed on when he’d grappled for an identity after escaping from Hydra. The difference was, he no longer felt an aversion toward the idea of being Bucky. 

He wasn’t the same Bucky he’d used to be, but it didn’t matter; this was where the life of that person had led to, and it was one of the names that belonged to him. Steve had helped him regain it, and it would always be special just because of it. He was sure now Steve didn’t need him to be the same person that he’d been, just as he didn’t need Steve to be the same he’d been in the forties. They still fit together, and it would always be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hopefully you enjoyed our work!
> 
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